


Devil In His Own Way

by ohthedrarry



Series: DEVIL IN HIS OWN WAY [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dramione endgame, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Playboy, Porn With Plot, Post-War, Sex Toys, Sub Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthedrarry/pseuds/ohthedrarry
Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy disappeared. It had been five years since the heir to the Malfoy inheritance had been seen or heard. And there were rumors floating around; rumors that Hermione couldn’t even imagine. Stories of wild sex parties, insane amounts of potions and drugs, both Muggle and Magical. Surely, that was all they were—rumors. Until Hermione was approached in her office one day by Pansy Parkinson, clad in her professional robes and an eyebrow raised. Hermione was invited to the Mansion.[AU | Draco Malfoy is Hugh Hefner | EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT]
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Series: DEVIL IN HIS OWN WAY [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866991
Comments: 137
Kudos: 326





	1. THE INVITATION

**Author's Note:**

> I was minding my own business, watching a documentary about Hugh Hefner/Playboy, and I couldn't help but turn Netflix off and begin furiously planning this. I hope this gets everyone as excited as it got me. ;)
> 
> canon compliant until the epilogue. we just throw that bad boy in the trash.

It was an early morning in June when Hermione woke to the sound of her alarm clock buzzing on the dresser. She waved her wand at it and groaned, rolling over to pull the pillow over her face. The morning sun was filtering in through the thin white curtains that adorned the window beside her bed. On especially sunny mornings like that one, she regretted putting her bed flush against that particular wall. She made an absent promise to re-arrange the bedroom furniture once she got a break from work.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement felt as if it was in a constant state of chaos. It had taken nearly five years, but any remaining witches and wizards who had shown sympathies to the Dark Lord's mission were almost all rounded up and charged. Much of the Ministry's success had to do with Harry—he'd risen quickly through the ranks, leading Auror missions into Wizarding Europe's furthest reaches within a few years. One mission had even taken Harry and his team into Argentina in search of a rogue group of wizards known only as _Them_ to people outside of the Auror's office.

Hermione's spent most of her days in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, _actually_ working on the second floor in the Aurors offices. The remaining giants who had supported the Death Eaters during the Second Wizarding War had been rounded up and awaited sentencing. The Ministry had also discovered the last of the rogue Dementors and were reluctant to send them back to Azkaban without punishment. They had to decide how to prosecute them, and the Ministry was worried about overstepping boundaries against Magical Creatures in such a delicate time. The war was still fresh on everyone's minds, and the Ministry was determined to come out looking clean and diplomatic as ever.

Dressing quickly and shoving a piece of toast in her mouth as she ran out of the door had become Hermione's daily routine. She made it to the office just in time—8 am sharp—and headed to her desk where she knew a stack of memos and reports would be waiting. The receptionist greeted Hermione warmly as she stepped out of the lift, a smile spread across her lips. Hermione couldn't remember the witch's name for her life; the only thing she could remember about the receptionist was that she happened to date the son of one of the Aurors. They'd met at a Ministry gala or something like that. 

"Good morning, Hermione," the witch stood, her high arching ponytail swaying with every movement she made. Her lips were always a unique shade of glittering pink, and her teeth were as white as the marble top to her desk. "This is Mr. Ashburn, an administrator for the Wizenmagot. He's here to discuss the sentencing of the--"

"I can take it from here, Clarice. I believe I left a memo on your desk Friday afternoon."

That was her name. Harry Potter had appeared to Hermione's left, and he stepped past her to shake the man's hand. The witched looked down at her desk and then back up at them, a soft blush on her cheeks. He shot Hermione a quick look that said _you owe me one_ before he began to lead the man toward his own office. The pair walked away, and Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She'd completely forgotten about her meeting with Mr. Ashburn. And Harry, her ever-present friend who had more than enough energy for ten Aurors, had taken it upon himself to meet the man for her.

Hermione walked into her own office and closed the door, wanting to keep everyone else out. Most of the floor was used to her door remaining closed and knew that Hermione's office was strictly appointment only. The office itself felt small, but that was due to the abundance of bookshelves that Hermione had put up around the place. Two massive, mahogany shelves stood behind her desk, and two smaller ones framed either side of the door. Two armchairs sat at an angle facing her desk, and a fern was growing rather large in the corner by the window. Off to the right sat an accent table, upon which sat her own tea set. She waved her hands over the pot and whispered the charm, her spirits lifting when steam began to waft from the spout. She poured herself a cup and got to work sorting through her inbox.

Try as she might, it wasn't until nearly eleven that Hermione was able to focus on any of the words on the pages before her. Even though this was her passion, she'd expected to be saving other kinds of creatures. Not that giants and dementors weren't important or worth saving. Her real love was house-elves, and unfortunately, that matter had been put to bed quickly after the war. The Ministry gave house-elves a choice: remain with their masters or work for any number of shops and restaurants for payment. Most had chosen to stay.

Lunchtime rolled around, and she shot up from her desk, eager to step away for a few precious moments. She made her way to the cafeteria, where she had her choice of different pasta, salads, sandwiches, and snacks. She chose a sandwich and an apple on the side with water. There was a shelf of magazines and newspapers for sale near the checkout line. She didn't realize she'd been staring at the _Daily Prophet_ until Katie Bell chuckled at her side.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Katie asked, her eyes also glued on the headline that dominated the front page.

_SEX, DRUGS, AND A WHOPPING INHERITANCE: DRACO MALFOY, WHERE IS HE NOW?_

_By Rita Skeeter_

Beneath the headline was a picture of Draco Malfoy sitting in what appeared to be a velvet armchair. He was shirtless, wearing only tight black pants. He stared up at the camera beneath a begrudgingly rugged mop of blonde hair, his hands folded as if in prayer. A smirk repeatedly grew over his face as an eyebrow raised as if daring you to read more.

"That's your definition of amazing?" Hermione asked, her voice catching in her throat. The last time she had seen Malfoy was at his trial after the war. He'd been smaller then, the bags under his eyes taking up much of his cheekbones. The stress had been clear on his face as on his body. But, that boy was gone. Staring back up at Hermione was a man, a man with muscles for days and eyes that leave your body humming.

"He's so sexy, Hermione," Katie Bell reached out to pick up a copy, scrutinizing it. "I hear he throws these wild parties. The wealthiest families attend, and even his Slytherin lot. He keeps the estate highly guarded; there's even a rumor that the Ministry loans him Aurors as security! And what goes on behind those doors, well..." Katie looked up at Hermione, her eyes sparkling. "Doesn't leave those doors."

Katie walked away from her then, marching for the check out counter with a purpose. Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, staring at the image of Draco. She couldn't deny that she was curious. She'd heard those rumors for the last few weeks. All of the young witches in the Ministry had their panties in a knot over it. She had never understood the appeal—those kinds of places were where people went to do all types of inappropriate things. It was not the kind of place that a respectable witch would find herself.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione picked up a copy and set it down on the counter beside her lunch. There was no shame in buying that day's paper. It had other articles in it—perhaps something more worth the time it would take for her to read. Draco Malfoy smoldering up at her from the front cover had in no way influenced her decision to buy it.

* * *

It was nearing 4 pm when Hermione realized she'd read the article six times. She'd taken the _Daily Prophet_ out again in between reports, reading over Skeeter's feature. Malfoy had sat down and been interviewed by her. He'd shown off his lavish mansion and the gorgeous witches that he had living there. Some of the things that he told Skeeter were downright filthy, and a few of his quotes had Hermione's heart rate on maximum. 

_After five years of silence, the young and dashing Draco Malfoy resurfaces to remind every witch and wizard precisely who they are. And who they are is not the Wizarding World's most elusive bachelor._

_Me, Myself, & I spent an afternoon in his new estate, called Malfoy Mansion, and got to sit down with him in his sprawling gardens._

_The estate itself includes a thirty-room Tudor style mansion, five guest houses, a secret grotto hidden away in the pool area, a game house, tennis courts, and even a zoo!_

_"Let's face it. I'm only twenty-three. I'm going to do what every wizard wants to do: whatever he wants!"_

_We sat down in the patio area, surrounded by fountains and landscaping that took my breath away. We discussed Mr. Malfoy's father's life sentence in Azkaban, and his mother's move to France, which he seemed to avoid._

_"My only concern is living my life how I want to live it. And this is how I want to live."_

_And he sure knows how to live! Peacocks and flamingos freely roam the estate grounds, and house-elves ensure that every guest is treated with five-star hospitality. But what we want to know is: are the rumors true? Does he have hosts of girls who live on the property, and are his parties really "anything goes"?_

_"If a man has a right to find God in his own way, he has a right to go to the Devil in his own way also."_

A knock on the door grabbed her attention, pulling her away. She quickly stuffed the newspaper into her desk drawer before clearing her throat. "Come in."

"Ms. Granger," the receptionist stuck her head inside, the ponytail swaying back and forth. Her hair was pin straight, but today she'd added light waves that made Hermione jealous. "Someone by the name of Parkinson is here to see you."

"Parkinson?" Hermione stood at her desk; her head cocked to the side. The door opened wider to reveal Pansy Parkinson, her sleek black hair was in its usual bob-style, although it went to her shoulders rather than her ears as it had when they were in school. Her bangs were as straight as ever, cutting sharply against the arch of her eyebrows. Pansy was ever one of the most beautiful witches Hermione had ever seen. 

"I hope this is alright, Granger," Pansy said, her voice as candy-like as Hermione remembered. "I was hoping we could meet in private."

"What kind of business could you have with me?" Hermione asked. The hair on the back of her arms began to stick up beneath her robes. 

"Personal."

Pansy's eyes stared at her unwaveringly, her jaw set. Hermione scanned her face for any malice sign, but Pansy only looked as if she had eight more stops to make after that one. She had no intention of staying long, whatever her message was. 

"It's alright, Clarice, thanks," Hermione nodded, settling back down into her seat. Pansy stepped into her office and closed the door. Her robes were a vibrant blue and clung to her figure as ivy clung to the sides of ancient buildings. There was no question that she'd developed curves after the war, natural or not. "Have a seat."

Pansy followed her instructions, crossing her feet at the ankle. She beamed at Hermione as if they'd been friends for years. 

"It's wonderful to see you after such a long time," she said. "We were wondering how you were fairing working for the Ministry. I must say, I am happy they at least gave you an office."

"Who is we?" Hermione pressed her lips into a line. Pansy leaned forward. 

"Why, _everyone_ , of course." Hermione wasn't sure if Pansy winked, or if it was a trick of the light. "You and your boys are that anyone discusses anymore. I'm sure that doesn't come as a surprise to you."

"What are you doing here?" 

Hermione hated the way Slytherins drug things out, continually seeking particular reactions to their words and actions. Dealing with them was a constant game of cat and mouse, and the cat always won. 

"I've come on behalf of Draco, of course," Pansy licked her lips as she leaned back in her seat. 

"On behalf of Malfoy?" Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes so hard it briefly hurt. She blinked a few times to refocus them. "What could he possibly want with me?"

"I'm sure you've heard the rumors," Pansy's smile one could only describe as cunning. "I know you shoved your copy of today's _Prophet_ into the drawer before I came in. I was watching you through the window."

"And they're just rumors," Hermione eyed her carefully. "I'm sure Malfoy couldn't get away with living this kind of lifestyle. Some of it has to be illegal. After all, the drugs alone should be enough of a reason for the Ministry to give him negative attention."

Pansy shook her head, her smile dangerous. 

"Not when the Minister frequents his parties."

Pansy reached into her robes and pulled out a black envelope. She handed it across the desk to Hermione, who carefully took it in her own hands. The envelope was unmarked. 

"This weekend, we are celebrating Theodore Nott's birthday," Pansy cocked her head to the side. "We all know how downright uptight you are. I can't imagine you ever have much fun."

"I have fun," Hermione defended herself. She dropped her gaze to the table. She had fun. 

"Not real fun, Hermione," Pansy stood up and placed her hands on Hermione's desk. She leaned forward so that her chest was on full display, the fabric of her robes cutting down to just between her breasts. "Draco wants to invite you to join us. Get away for a while."

"You're inviting me to a party? As if we're still in our teens?"

"I'm inviting you to live at the estate for a week," Pansy pulled back. "The girls that stay get their own private guest houses. Most of the parties take place Friday and Saturday nights, though smaller groups gather throughout the week for _various_ _activities_."

"Why me?" Hermione asked. Pansy shrugged as if she didn't understand it either. 

"Draco sent me here, personally," Was all she said before turning to the door. "Owl me by tomorrow evening so that I can let him know. Security is finalizing the guest list Wednesday morning."

And with that, Pansy was out of the door and on the lift. She'd timed it perfectly. Hermione stared at the closed door before opening the envelope. 

_A WEEKEND TO REMEMBER_

_CELEBRATE THE TWENTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY OF THE ONE, THE ONLY, THEODORE NOTT_

_WITH THE TWO BEST NIGHTS OF YOUR LIFE_

_RSVP REQUIRED_

_MALFOY ESTATE_

At the bottom sat Pansy's name and the location to send the owl. Hermione's mind was swimming as she stuck it back into the envelope and shoved it deep inside her purse. What the bloody hell was going on? Had she just been solicited for prostitution?

As soon as she got home, she sent Ginny an owl asking her to come over right away. Her body was humming, but her mind was running in circles. What the bloody hell was Draco Malfoy doing, soliciting a government employee for sex? Or, at least, inviting a government employee into a home surrounded by sex and scandal? 

"I'm here!" A tremendous crash immediately followed Ginny's voice as she came flying out of the fireplace in Hermione's living room. Her townhome was small but spacious, and she'd thought she had finally moved the couch out of Ginny's trajectory. Ginny had a history of barreling into Hermione's home as if she'd jumped head-first into the Floo Network. 

"Ginny, be careful!" Hermione scolded from the hallway, her hand clutched to her chest. Ginny pulled herself to her feet and straightened out her sweater. 

"What happened? Who got hurt?" Ginny shoved her hair from her face. "I'm ready to fight."

"No, it's not that," Hermione laughed, briefly forgetting why she'd invited her friend over. The moment she remembered, she pointed to the black envelope on the coffee table. "It's that."

Ginny picked it up and read the invitation, her mouth open in shock. When she looked back up at Hermione, a smirk had taken over her face. 

"It finally happened," Ginny sounded elated. Hermione felt even more confused. "Oh, my— _Hermione_! Harry and I have been going to Malfoy's parties for weeks!"

"You've been what?"

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Ginny giggled and grabbed for Hermione's hands, pulling her to the couch. 

It turned out, Draco was in the process of creating a magazine specifically for wizards. It featured images of half-naked witches, erotic short stories, and lifestyle pieces about an array of topics from sex toys to ways to get witches into bed with you. Pansy was his assistant and in charge of much of his day-to-day activities. Blaise and Theodore were on the editorial board for the magazine, and another Slytherin boy whose name Hermione didn't recognize was in charge of PR. Ginny gave her a lot of other information too, but Hermione could barely absorb it all. 

"Draco invited Harry and I to an investors party a few weeks back," Ginny said. She'd made herself comfortable on Hermione's couch and munched her way through a package of biscuits. "We think the magazine will do well."

"You invested in a pornography magazine?" Hermione asked for clarification. She was finding it difficult to look her friend in the eye. Ginny and Harry's image in that mansion doing whatever it was people did there made her skin crawl. She knew that they were into experimenting in the bedroom, but she hadn't realized it went that far. 

"It's a lifestyle magazine, and yes," Ginny's smile was wicked. "We did. The parties are fantastic. Harry and I are going this weekend."

Hermione took a deep breath and grabbed the invitation. 

"But this isn't just an invite to the party. They've asked me to stay there for a week."

Ginny nodded, the smile on her face only growing as she leaned forward. 

"Some girls spend a few days on the property," Ginny said. "A few of them live there full time. He pays them, of course, and they get to do as they please. Honestly, if I weren't married, I'd give my left kidney to be one of those girls. Can you imagine the amount of mind-blowing sex they have?"

Ginny didn't leave until Hermione sent Pansy the owl accepting Draco's request. Ginny reminded her that she hadn't had a proper good time since her break-up with Ron three years prior. And, even when Hermione had been with Ron, the mind-blowing times were few and far between. He had never left her truly satisfied.

Hermione had always supposed that was her fault. Maybe she just couldn't orgasm. She'd read that a lot of girls experienced the inability to reach climax. Or, perhaps it was the way that Ron's hands were too rough. Too fumbling and awkward. And he never spent much time trying to satisfy her. 

She chewed on her bottom lip and waited for Pansy to respond. After nearly an hour, an owl landed on her window with a reply. 

_Hermione—_

_We were delighted to get your RSVP._

_You will be staying in the Blue House and will have twenty-four-hour access to the grounds and all of the amenities that it offers. You may arrive at any time you wish on this Thursday. You may arrive at the gates via portkey or apparition, whichever method you prefer._

_Upon arrival, simply say your name at the gate. If I am around, I will come and get you personally, or our head of security will escort you up to the mansion._

_No guest is allowed to attend the parties on Friday and Saturday evening if they are not in the appropriate attire: lingerie or a bikini. During any other time, feel free to dress in whatever is most comfortable. There is a gym on the grounds if you wish to bring clothing to exercise._

_We look forward to your arrival._

_Pansy Parkinson, Assistant to Mr. Draco Malfoy_

Hermione collapsed on the couch as her head spun. The note read as if she'd be staying at some hotel rather than someone's home. What was she thinking, agreeing to this kind of thing? She'd let Ginny convince her that it was a good idea. 

Hermione didn't own lingerie. 

The thought smacked her harder than she'd thought it would. She sent another owl to Ginny, knowing that her friend would be awake despite the late hour. She was probably snogging her husband on the couch. She'd need to go lingerie shopping, and there was no way she was going alone. 

* * *

Ginny agreed to go lingerie shopping with her the following day after work. Hermione's cheeks were red by the time they approached the shop. She still couldn't believe that this shop existed right on Main Street in Diagon Alley, as if it was reasonable to shop for this kind of thing on a Tuesday. 

They stepped inside, and the shop was smaller than Hermione had expected. Mannequins of all shapes and sizes changed poses every few moments, showing off lacey bra and underwear sets. 

"Hello," a young witch around their age smiled at them from behind the counter. 

"Hi!" Ginny beamed back, dragging Hermione over to her. She nudged Hermione to say hello as well. 

Ginny commanded the situation from the beginning, just as Hermione had wanted her to. The witch's name was Lacey, and she was polite and professional. She was gentle as she took Hermione's measurements, chatting away with Ginny as Hermione remained nervously quiet. 

"So, what kind of looks are you into?" Lacey let her measuring tape float around her neck. Every once in a while, it reached up to tickle her ear, causing her to swat at it. 

"I'm not sure," Hermione knew she was going to have to take her clothes off and try something on eventually. "I'd prefer something a little more modest?"

She felt ridiculous for standing in a lingerie boutique, asking for something modest, but she didn't know if she was quite ready to make the full jump. Lacey nodded enthusiastically, asking what kind of colors Hermione liked. Ginny immediately cut in. 

"I like her in burgundy," her friend's eyes were sparkling. "Also, periwinkle. None of us have forgotten the way she looked at the Yule Ball."

Lacey disappeared to grab a few things for Hermione to try, and Ginny ushered her into the changing room. Hermione stripped to her usual panties, just simple, grey panties, and no bra. She hadn't worn one since her Fifth Year. They didn't give her the proper range of motion to be on guard every minute of every day. 

"Try these on," Lacey handed her a few items over the door. "I'm going to start you off with a couple of Teddy's. They're sexy bodysuits."

Hermione took a deep breath and reached for one. It was the periwinkle that Ginny had requested. At first, she wasn't sure how to put it on. But, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she gasped. 

The fabric clung to her body in all of the right places, giving her the appearance of having hips. The straps were the thickness of regular tank tops, and most of her cleavage was covered. Lace plunged between her breasts to the top of her belly button, where a rhinestone belt went around her waist. The back was left entirely open. 

Hermione took a deep breath and opened the door. Ginny nearly had a heart attack, and Lacey gripped the back of the couch for support. 

"You look so sexy!" Ginny clutched at her heart dramatically. "I might have to file for a divorce. I think women are my thing."

Hermione blushed but turned to look at herself again. Maybe she could be sexy if she wanted to be. 

"Try on something else!" Lacey demanded. "I want to see more!"

Hermione obliged them. She and Ginny spent nearly two hours in the shop, having Hermione try everything from Teddy's to babydoll slips to even bra and panty sets. Hermione bought more lingerie than she would ever need for one week at Malfoy's mansion. The thought made her entire body hum in anticipation. 


	2. HERMIONE'S ARRIVAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Draco Malfoy disappeared. It had been five years since the heir to the Malfoy inheritance had been seen or heard. And there were rumors floating around; rumors that Hermione couldn’t even imagine. Stories of wild sex parties, insane amounts of potions and drugs, both Muggle and Magical. Surely, that was all they were—rumors. Until Hermione was approached in her office one day by Pansy Parkinson, clad in her professional robes and an eyebrow raised. Hermione was invited to the Mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before this chapter starts i have to give a big shout out to one of my best friends from college who came up with the name for the wizard version of playboy. frank--you're a god.

Taking off an entire week from work was more manageable to accomplish than Hermione thought it would be. All she'd needed to do was ask Harry, who spoke to her direct supervisor, who told her to take as much time as possible. And she was still going to get paid. 

"You work way too hard, Ms. Granger." Gethsemane Prickle, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, smiled at Hermione warmly over her glasses. "I was beginning to wonder how I was going to force you on vacation."

She'd tried asking Hermione where she was going, and Hermione had made up a lie about visiting family out of the country. There was no way she could tell her boss that she was taking off to live in Draco Malfoy's mansion for a week. 

Ginny came over on Thursday morning to help her finish packing. Hermione made sure she grabbed her essentials: toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner. Stuff that she didn't want to assume Malfoy provided his for guests. Ginny made sure that the lingerie made it into the bag. 

"You only need lingerie for two of your six nights," Ginny pursed her lip, staring at the Teddy's and babydoll dresses spread across the bed. "I loved the way the periwinkle one looked on you."

"Which one?" Hermione asked, her cheeks warm. Most of what she'd bought was a light shade of purple-blue. Ginny had talked her into a few bolder colors and looks, but she didn't know how she felt about wearing them at the mansion. 

"The first one you tried on," Ginny picked up the bodysuit with the rhinestone belt. She did like that one. Hermione approved, and it went in the suitcase. 

Hermione joined Ginny, scanning the rest of the lingerie that she'd bought. Something in her told her that only bringing the two sets wouldn't be enough. She supposed she might try to take the opportunity and loosen up a little bit. All in all, Hermione ended up packing: a bra and panty set for each day of the week, two Teddy's, two babydoll slips, and a shimmering black cardigan. She'd made sure to mix up the color scheme, at Ginny's suggestion. To keep things interesting. 

"I feel like I'm seeing my daughter off to her first day of school," Ginny fake dabbed at tears as she walked Hermione down the street to an appariton point. 

"You'll see me tomorrow, Ginny," Hermione's stomach was in knots. The knowledge that Ginny and Harry would be at the mansion in less than forty-eight hours was the only reason Hermione could even find the strength to go. She wouldn't be alone for too long. And, hopefully, she'd be much more comfortable by the time they left. 

She hugged Ginny goodbye and then took a steadying breath. Hermione focused all of her energy on one place: Malfoy Mansion; and one feeling: excitement. The world began to fall away as Hermione felt the familiar tug of a time and space vacuum, yanking her from the center of Wizarding London to the countryside. When the falling stopped, she opened her eyes and came face-to-face with a gentlemanly, wrought iron fence. 

Hermione was standing at the edge of a driveway that seemed to stretch on for miles. A massive stone fence surrounded the property, decorated with lovely flora and fauna of every size and color. She approached the gate hesitantly, trying to remember Pansy's instructions. 

"Um, hello," she called out, hoping she was doing it right. "I'm Hermione Granger, and—"

Before she could finish speaking, the gates opened up, and a rather handsome wizard in his thirties was walking down the drive toward her. His shoulders were broad, and his dark hair glinted in the sunshine. He looked in every way like a bodyguard for the Minister of Magic. Aurors who always trailed behind the Minister with every move he made, whispering into charmed devices tucked away in various places throughout their robes. 

"Ms. Granger," he beamed at her, his voice sounding like velvet. "I'm Archie, Head of Security here at the mansion. Ms. Parkinson is dealing with a scheduling conflict and has asked me to bring you up to the Main House. Can I take your bag for you?"

"I can carry it, thank you."

Hermione smiled back at him, hoping she didn't come off as tense. He chatted with her as they approached the house, his words getting lost as Hermione took in the property. They were approaching a truly handsome Tudor mansion, and a grand fountain surrounded by the most lovely flowers Hermione had ever seen. Upon closer inspection, hundreds of little goldfish swam around in the basin. A peacock strutted about, picking at its feathers. So that part of Skeeter's article had been genuine. 

As the pair approached the front doors, they swung open to reveal an impressive foyer and a grand staircase leading to the second level. House-elves, witches, and wizards walked about the lower floor, carrying trays of food and stacks of papers back and forth. 

"Most of the offices for the magazine are on the first floor," Archie explained. "Ms. Parkinson's office is to the left. Let me go grab her for you."

With that, Hermione stood alone in the entryway, clutching her bag for dear life. People smiled at her as they passed, a few even stopping to compliment her. One witch said that she adored Hermione's hair, which she'd left to do as it pleased on top of her head. Another praised her eyes, which had been catching the light in a way that made them appear almost gold. 

A group of young witches came down the stairs, dressed in bikinis with their hair pulled back. They chatted with each other excitedly about the upcoming party. Hermione assumed that they were some of the girls who lived on the property. She wondered how close they were with each other; what they did when they were alone. A shiver went down her spine. 

"Hermione!" Pansy's voice had a sing-song tone to it as if she was genuinely excited to see Hermione there. She wrapped her up in a hug, which Hermione didn't expect. It took her a moment to hug Pansy back. "It's so great to see you! I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you at the entrance. Blaise accidentally double-booked two photoshoots for the magazine's first issue, and Draco nearly had a fit."

"It's alright," Hermione offered Pansy the biggest smile she could. "Archie was lovely."

"Thank you," he smiled at her, almost appearing out of nowhere. 

"Archie is the Head of Security here, as I'm sure he told you," Pansy began to lead Hermione down the hall. Archie followed them. "If you ever need anything at all, he and his team are here to make sure that you feel safe and secure."

"Don't hesitate to tell me if someone gets rough with you or notice anyone doing something they shouldn't," Archie said. "We will not hesitate to remove someone who cannot control themselves. The girls' safety is our number one priority. Mr. Malfoy's is our second."

Hermione felt surprisingly optimistic after hearing those words. Archie said them with a definitiveness that told her the mansion had a Do Not Admit list in one of those offices. She wondered who was on it.

"Security will always be in dress robes with red ties," Pansy stopped as they reached a glass door that led out to the back patio area. The glass was frosted, and Hermione supposed that was on purpose. "Guest services wear blue ties. Room service is available twenty-four hours a day, seven days per week. There will be a bell in your kitchen that you can ring and someone will be there to assist you. Are you ready?"

Hermione took a deep breath and then nodded. The doors opened, and Hermione almost couldn't believe what she saw. Twenty or so witches and wizards filled the backyard, engaging in several leisure activities. Some were playing tennis while others hung around the pool area, sipping on drinks. There was a buffet station beneath an awning, and the food smelled incredible. Fountains and gardens were broken up by a cobblestone walkway that branched off into three walkways. One went to the pool area, the other lead to the lawn, and the third disappeared into a miniature forest to the left. From that direction, she heard the sounds of a multitude of animals. A family of flamingos sunned themselves by the pool. 

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. She was sure she looked like an absolute fool, standing there with her mouth wide open, but she couldn't control herself. 

Pansy led her past the pool area toward a series of guest houses. Each was a different color, and they made straight for the blue one. It had a small front porch with two chairs and a patio table, on which sat a lovely potted plant and a candle. They pushed open the door to reveal what looked like a vacation home in Italy. The walls were some kind of stucco material, with brick designs along the edges in a pale grey tone. The tile floor was the same shade, covered in beautiful grey rugs in the sitting area and one in the kitchen. 

Hermione stepped further into the house, searching for the bathroom. When she found it, she discovered her wildest dreams. The shower was massive, taking up most of the back corner. Next to it was a jacuzzi tub big enough for nearly three people, and there was a double vanity along the other wall. The bathroom was almost the size of the kitchen. 

"I think you'll like the bedroom," Pansy grabbed Hermione's attention from the hall. Hermione stepped past her and opened the door, her breath escaping within moments. 

The walls of the bedroom were all glass, giving Hermione three different views of the property. There was a low-lying, king-sized bed in the middle of the room covered in what looked like blue silk. A canopy of shimmering silver came down from the ceiling on all four sides of it, hiding the bed from view. 

"The windows are charmed," Pansy appeared to her right, a wicked smile on her face. "You can see out, but no one can see inside. There are dressers built into the bookcases along the wall over here."

Hermione hadn't even noticed the bookcases. The shelves outlined a full mirror and contained hundreds of exciting titles. Hermione was going to have to spend more than a week in the house if she wanted to get through them. 

Pansy had a clipboard in her hands, and she unclipped it to sort through all of her papers. Hermione took three brochures and studied them while Pansy talked. 

"The gym is attached to the game house, just to the right of the tennis courts. We do yoga there every morning around ten before breakfast, which gets served at eleven. Dinner is every night at six, and we have different activities throughout the week. The girls who live in the house live on the mansion's second floor, and Draco takes up the entirety of the third story."

Hermione was looking at a plant in the corner of the room, her eyes somewhat glassy. So there were girls who lived there full time. What were they like? Were they friendly?

"A few of the girls are hanging out at the pool now," Pansy put a hand on her shoulder. "They're great, I promise. You can get changed, and Archie can introduce you, or I can send one of my favorites over to introduce herself."

"I'll get changed," Hermione smiled at Pansy, reaching for her bag. She didn't want Archie to leave just yet. "I'll be just a few minutes. Thanks."

"Lovely," Pansy began to see herself out. "I'll see you at six."

* * *

Hermione stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, turning her body left and then right so that she could inspect every angle. The bikini Ginny had picked out, and Hermione had wanted to give it a shot. It was a vibrant teal color, with one shoulder strap that went across her left shoulder. The bottoms weren't too revealing, and she felt comfortable enough at the top. She could step outside wearing this.

Archie was waiting in the sitting area when she came out, and he smiled brightly at her. There was no hint in his eyes that he was looking her over, and she was thankful for that. Although, she supposed his job was to protect her, not flirt with her. 

"You look lovely," he said. He opened the door and gestured for Hermione to step outside. She followed him shyly to the pool area, not knowing what to do with her hands. Archie walked her over to where four girls had gathered, two sitting on lounge chairs and the other two floating in the pool. All of them looked like models. 

"Alice, Callista, Kiara, and Leona," Archie bowed to them politely, gesturing toward Hermione. "This is Hermione. Hermione, these are four of the girls who live here with Mr. Malfoy full time."

"Hermione Granger?" One of the girls on the lounge chairs pushed her sunglasses up so that she could stare at Hermione unblinded. "You're _the_ Hermione Granger?"

Hermione blushed and nodded. All four of the girls came to surround her at once, almost fawning over her. They introduced themselves individually; Alice had been the one to remove her sunglasses. She was wearing a skimpy yellow bikini that had Hermione wishing she could rock something like that. Callista had been on the lounge chairs beside Alice, hiding from the sun beneath a wide-brimmed, purple hat that paired wonderfully with her fire-red hair. Kiara and Leona were twins, their hair a shade of brown that reflected the sun as brilliantly as Alice's blond. 

They quickly fell into easy conversation, the five of them sitting down at one of the patio tables. One of the staff appeared and asked if they wanted anything to drink. Alice ordered mimosas for the table and asked for a fruit tray. Within minutes, a fruit spread with three different kinds of chocolate sat before them, along with a mimosa pitcher and five glasses. Alice and Draco had met at a party in France, and she had been one of the first girls invited to live on the property. She'd been there for nearly a year and a half. Callista had joined shortly after that, while Kiara and Leona had only been there for four months. 

"It's a dream, living here," Callista popped a grape into her mouth, her hazel eyes reflecting blue with the pool in the background. "It's not always raunchy around here. This is what an average afternoon at the mansion looks like. Just people hanging out and having a good time."

"And the security is top-notch," Kiara leaned forward. She was sitting on her sister's lap, and the pair hadn't taken their hands off each other once. Not in a sexual way, but their hands were always around each other's waists or wrapped up in their sister's hair. "Once, a guy grabbed my chest while we were on the dancefloor. He was rough about it and too drunk to know what he was doing. Archie had him off the property before I even had time to yell at him."

"Draco takes our safety seriously," Alice sipped at her mimosa without a care in the world. Hermione found it interesting that she said his first name with such ease. 

"Draco takes a few other things seriously too." Callista giggled knowingly, and the four girls shared knowing looks. It was then that Hermione realized he'd slept with all of them, and probably did so frequently. How many of them were there?

The girls turned their attention on Hermione, bombarding her with questions. They asked about her upbringing, and she'd hesitated to tell them she was a Muggle-born. 

"We know that," Leona had rolled her eyes with a light smile on her face. "No one worth your time cares about that kind of thing. We genuinely want to know about your childhood. How was it when you found out you could do magic?"

The girls made Hermione feel comfortable. They watched her intently as she answered their questions, all of them leaning forward in their seats. She wasn't used to having such an attentive audience. She ended up telling them things she hadn't mentioned for years, like the way it felt the first time she successfully produced particular charms or potions. Hermione explained her friendship with Harry and Ron, starting with the troll and going through to the war. 

"And you went to school with Draco, right?" Kiara's eyes were alight with mischief. Hermione had often seen a similar look in Draco's eyes when he was toying with her. "What was he like when he was younger?"

Before Hermione could answer, the group was interrupted by Pansy arriving to ask for Hermione. Hermione gave the girls an apologetic look before letting Pansy take her hand and pull her from the chair. 

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked when they were out of earshot. Pansy nodded and smiled, tugging her down the wooded pathway she'd seen upon her arrival. 

"Of course," Pansy said. "I got a few minutes, and I wanted to check up on you. I know the girls can be a lot if you aren't used to their type."

"What type are they?" Hermione found herself raising an eyebrow, both at Pansy and herself. She felt giddy to be hiding away from the girls--with Pansy of all people--sharing hushed secrets and opinions. She liked Pansy and agreed that the girls did seem as if they could be a bit dense. 

"Rich witches from noble families who are here to take a shot at Draco's inheritance," Pansy rolled her eyes. Several cages and enclosures were coming into view, and Hermione couldn't believe what she saw. In one massive cage was an array of birds in all different colors, shapes, and sizes. Another housed adorable monkeys who played with each other underneath an artificial waterfall, while a third was home to an impressive lioness. It wasn't until Hermione got closer that she saw the lioness protected two cubs, both hardly bigger than a large cat. 

"Do you think they'll succeed?" Hermione wasn't sure why she asked that question. She wasn't jealous, and she sure wasn't here for it herself. But, Malfoy's unpredictable nature left much up to the imagination. 

"Draco isn't the type to settle down and marry someone," Pansy chuckled. She leaned against the railing that outlined the enclosure. The lioness's name was Hera, after the Greek goddess, and her cubs were Athena and Hercules.

"So none of these girls stand a chance? The poor things."

Hermione hoped that her voice hadn't come out as patronizing. The smirk that spread across Pansy's lips in response told her that she hadn't overstepped any boundaries. If anything, she was feeding into what Pansy was thinking: that all of these girls were idiots in search of something they wouldn't find. 

"Draco's magazine is an artistic reflection of the lifestyle he wishes to live," Pansy looked over her shoulder as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "I can show you the magazine if you're interested. It's called _Disrobe_ , and it focuses on that kind of bachelor lifestyle that everyone tries to push on Potter even though he's been married for years. You know, the idea is pretty popular with Muggles as well."

"Of course," Hermione nodded, pursing her lips. "So, what? He's living this way so that art imitates life?"

"I think it's more that life imitates art, Granger." Pansy laughed. "He hates attachment, so he surrounds himself with girls who will give it with no questions. But, the payout is more than worth it for both parties."

The pair watched as the lioness groomed her cubs, the small family hiding from the afternoon sun in a cave-like enclosure. Hermione wouldn't say it out loud, but she supposed that it was a rather lonely life for Draco to try and live. On the surface, he seemed to be the center of the party, surrounded by girls and witches richer than half of Wizarding London combined. But, she'd been outside for hours and hadn't seen him once. Did he spend most of his time working on the magazine and not enjoying the life he'd created? That seemed counterintuitive. 

Hermione didn't know what to make of Pansy's statement, so she enjoyed the silence. Pansy didn't force her to converse as most other people did, and Hermione enjoyed the lack of pressure. It gave her space to think and to process the paradise that she suddenly found herself in. Only Draco Malfoy would spend Godrick knew how much of his inheritance on a massive mansion, wild animals, gorgeous witches, and whatever else Hermione hadn't found yet. She got the feeling that she'd be seeing something new each day of that week. 

"No one will judge me if I go back to my guest house, will they?" Hermione heard herself speak before she realized she'd opened her mouth. Pansy chuckled at her--they all chuckled at her--and shook her head. "I just want to rest for a little bit before dinner."

That was code for _I need to figure out what the fuck I'm wearing to dinner_. And, maybe Hermione could squeeze in a nap if she had the time. 

"You're free to do as you please, Hermione." Her words were honest. "No one is going to pressure you. We just want to make sure you're having a good time. If you don't want to run into the girls, this path leads you right back to your house."

Hermione said her goodbyes and made her way down the path. A few other kinds of animals were on display: a pair of phoenixes, a small family of zebras, and even a miniature dragon. Hermione wasn't sure if the breed was that small, or if Draco had charmed him to weigh little more than a large dog. She made a mental note to owl Ron's brother when she got back home--he would know. 

* * *

It was nearing 6 pm, and Hermione was frustrated as all hell. She'd changed into eight different outfits, and none of them felt right. She'd tried peaking out of her window to see what the other girls were wearing, but it was no use. Most of them still basked in the pool, splashing each other and giggling without a care in the world. She'd give her left kidney to be that carefree. 

Hermione gave up trying when she remembered Pansy's letter. She could wear whatever she wanted and not feel judged. That was the entire premise of the mansion if one dumbed it down: come as you are and do what you please. She was wearing a simple long-sleeve T-shirt that she'd bought in Italy while on vacation with Ginny and faded jeans with rips above the knee. Hermione slipped into a pair of flip-flops and made her way back toward the house. 

The dining room was on the first floor, toward the back of the house. A set of sliding glass doors connected it with the back patio area, and the door was open to let people arrive from whichever direction they pleased. Hermione was surprised to see a traditional Tudor dining room with a long table and a chandelier that looked older than the house itself. Dark wood paneling contrasted with luxurious burgundy wallpaper and the lush carpet on the ground was a perfect match. A gorgeous flower centerpiece dominated the middle of the table and took Hermione's breath away. 

"Hermione!" The sound of Alice's voice made Hermione's heart skip a beat. She wasn't used to people being excited to see her. Usually, Hermione's arrival meant that someone was in trouble or needed saving--which implied they were in trouble. "We saved you a seat!"

Alice gestured to the seat at the end of the table. Hermione took a deep breath and sat, folding her hands in her lap. Alice made small talk while the other three listened in and nodded intently. Hermione wondered how Alice had managed to become the leader of the group. Not to be shallow, but Hermione thought that the twins were prettier than Alice and Callista. They were daintier, and shorter than Hermione by a few centimeters. They were more catlike, their eyes taking in everything while their mouths said very little. Alice was more like a poodle, and Callista was a bird who'd gotten stuck in the right place at the wrong time. 

"No, tell Blaise that I need it done by the end of the week." A voice came from down the hallway, sending shivers down Hermione's spine. She'd recognize that voice anywhere--sometimes it crept into her dreams, both good and bad. Sometimes he was the one torturing her, and other times he was pulling her into a broom closet at school. The second dream hadn't occurred since the war, but the memory of what they did lingered in Hermione's imagination. It was part of what made her go to the mansion at all--that blurry, midnight fantasy she'd had in her teens. "And make sure Theo reschedules that interview with the fashion designer in Rome. We can't have a repeat of today."

"Of course, Draco," came Pansy's smooth reply. Hermione could tell by her tone that she'd stopped listening to Malfoy for at least a minute or two. 

And then, Malfoy came into view. His hair was pulled back in a tight bun at the base of his head, and strands of hair stuck out in every direction. She could tell that he'd been messing with his hair despite having it pulled back. The emerald green button-up he wore hugged his shoulders and chest in a way she hadn't expected, showing just how muscular he had become. A silver ring glinted off the light from the chandelier, and Hermione followed it down past his long fingers. She had to look away when she got back to his chest. 

She felt parched. 

Pansy and Draco sat down at the table, with Draco at the head and Pansy to his left. Hermione was surprised that Alice wasn't seated to his right, or at the opposite end of the table. That was when she realized she was sitting at the opposite end of the table. 

"I'm sorry that I was late," Malfoy offered everyone a warm smile. Mostly witches sat at the table, except for three men seated beside Pansy. One Hermione recognized as Blaise, who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else than at the table. She didn't recognize the other two, although she assumed one of them had to be Theodore Nott. "Crazy day at the office."

Everyone laughed at his joke, and the most that Hermione could muster was a soft breath. She couldn't laugh because Malfoy's eyes were on her, and she felt frozen in place. He looked at Hermione as if she was the only person in the room, scanning her face and taking in every detail. She was suddenly aware of how frizzy her hair was from the humidity outside, and how silly she had to look in a long-sleeve tee and jeans. His expression was neutral as if he was studying a statue at a museum. 

Pansy cleared her throat, causing Hermione to jump slightly in her seat. Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if she'd ruined something. 

"I do believe we have a new guest with us tonight," Malfoy opened his eyes again. He sent Hermione a wicked smile across the table that made her heart slam into her rib cage. "I'm sure everyone has heard of Hermione Granger."

There were twelve seats at the table, and eleven pairs of eyes were staring Hermione down. Some looked intrigued; Pansy looked worried; Blaise looked bored; Alice and her friends looked proud; Malfoy looked... ravishing. 

"Um, yes," Hermione cleared her throat when her words didn't come out as loud as she wanted them to. "You can call me Hermione, though. I dropped the last name after school. Only my boss uses it." 

Malfoy sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking at her even more closely. He didn't break eye contact until food appeared on everyone's plates. 

"Eat," he said to no one in particular. "Now, Alice, I heard your mother was in town?"

Hermione was mostly silent for the rest of the dinner. She ate as much as she could around her nerves and listened to the myriad of conversations around her. The people at the table were all comfortable with one another as if they ate with each other every day. They bantered and tossed friendly insults across the table as easily as they had played tennis all afternoon. 

When everyone finished, they began to split off in groups of two or three. Hermione didn't know whether to leave or stay seated. Alice stood and made her way to Malfoy, who was speaking with Blaise and the boy she assumed was Theodore in hushed tones. Alice wrapped her arms around Malfoy from behind, letting her hair cover them both as she whispered something to him. He stood from the table and allowed her to drag him from the room. 

"Have a good night, everyone." Malfoy had addressed the group, but his eyes were on her. They had a shimmer of something in them as if he was daring her to follow them. They disappeared into the hall, and Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. As she stood to leave, she noticed maybe-Theodore staring at her, his chin resting in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her but didn't speak.

"Do you want to hang out with us by the pool?" Callista grabbed Hermione's arm gently, a soft smile on her face. "We're not swimming, just relaxing. The firepit is cozy."

"I'd love to," Hermione forced out, tearing her eyes away from the Slytherin seated at the table. The back of her neck burned with the intensity of his gaze, and she could still feel it a few hours later when she climbed into bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that hermione is at the mansion, things are going to get spicy ;) let me know what you think so far in the comments!


	3. THE GROTTO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Draco Malfoy disappeared. It had been five years since the heir to the Malfoy inheritance had been seen or heard. And there were rumors floating around; rumors that Hermione couldn’t even imagine. Stories of wild sex parties, insane amounts of potions and drugs, both Muggle and Magical. Surely, that was all they were—rumors. Until Hermione was approached in her office one day by Pansy Parkinson, clad in her professional robes and an eyebrow raised. Hermione was invited to the Mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter, but the ending will make it worth it ;) thank you guys so much for all of your kind words and kudos so far!! i never imagined that this story would gain this much traction and i'm over the moon with gratitude

Hermione took a deep breath and opened up her suitcase. Alice and the girls were hovering around her, all five of them crowded into her bedroom. The party wasn't supposed to start for another hour or two, but she knew getting ready would take time. 

"I feel so out of place!" Hermione said honestly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks that not even her slight buzz could hide. 

She'd sat by the pool with them for most of the day, letting them fill her in on the who's who of pureblood nobility. When the girls weren't filling her in on the gossip, they engaged in conversation more meaningful than Hermione had expected. It was clear that the girls were well educated and had traveled to many different countries, some of them even going to Muggle tourist sites. Callista's story of her time at the Eifel Tower had caused Hermione to laugh so hard her cocktail had come back up through her nose. 

"You're one of the most beautiful girls here, Hermione," Leona looked up at her across the bed. "Everyone is going to be looking at you."

The thought sent chills down Hermione's spine. She'd never felt she was a witch who drew that kind of attention. As the hours ticked closer to the party, she began to grow even more restless. Not knowing what would happen was eating her nerves alive. She hated not knowing what to expect. 

"Don't be nervous," Callista placed a calming hand on her arm. Hermione had realized early that this was something Callista did to bring people back to the moment. She spoke, like a mother, and used her touch to remind people that they exist in a physical environment and not just in their heads.

"What if I don't want to, you know..." Hermione trailed off, not knowing how to finish her sentence. It was Kiara's turn to speak up then, giving her a look of encouragement. 

"No one will force you to do anything you don't want to do," she flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder. Both twins had chocolate hair that went down to their waists, and Hermione had immediately been jealous of the way it flowed without a single knot or tangle. "That's why Archie is here. I haven't had sex once since I've been here." 

Hermione took a deep breath to try and calm her anxious nerves. Kiara's admission did make her feel better about her tendency to shy away from physical touch, particularly from men. She didn't see the point in purely physical relationships, but she could see how they would appeal to others. And, now that she was at the mansion, Hermione supposed it was worth testing the waters. But, that didn't make her any less apprehensive. 

"We're all here for you, Hermione," Alice, forever the graceful leader, smiled warmly at her. "And we won't leave your side unless you're comfortable. We look out for each other here."

"Now, let's see what we're working with!" Callista clapped her hands and stared down at Hermione's luggage, a smile much like Ginny's creeping onto her face. 

_ Ginny. Ginny was going to be there. With her husband.  _

Before Hermione could process how the thought made her feel, lingerie flew out of her suitcase and floated in the air before them. All eyes immediately settled on the periwinkle Teddy with the rhinestone belt. Hermione blushed and pulled it from the air, running her fingers over the lacey fabric. 

"My best friend picked this one out," she said. "Ginny Potter?"

"Ginny Potter knows how to pick out her lingerie," Callista gave Alice a knowing smile. Hermione raised an eyebrow at them. 

"She comes to the parties often," Alice shrugged. "And always looks an absolute picture."

"Straight out Draco's magazine," Leona quipped. Alice shot her a look that Hermione didn't know how to interpret. She seemed both jealous and excited. 

"I've been trying to sleep with the two of them for weeks," Alice laughed without any trace of shame. "Could you imagine? I hear Harry has quite a few tricks up his sleeve."

Hermione choked on some spit in her throat at Alice's statement. She couldn't believe that other girls saw him that way. Of course, Ginny thought that he was attractive-- _ they were married _ . But other girls had always sought out Harry's affections much to Hermione's confusion. Perhaps it was because she'd saved his life on more than one occasion or had first-hand experience with how dense he could be. 

"But, enough about that," Alice shook her head as if she had to physically remove whatever image of Harry she had from her memory. "Let's see how sexy you look in this."

Hermione felt more confident trying the Teddy on in her guest house than she had at the boutique. She changed in the en-suite bathroom, not quite comfortable enough with the girls to change in the same room. It wasn't that they made her uncomfortable--Hermione wasn't at that point with them yet. Although, she assumed that by the end of the week, she'd have no problem getting changed in the middle of Diagon Alley. 

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was shocked at how sexy she looked. Hermione couldn't help but touch her breasts and hips, even turning to look at her ass in the mirror. Did Ginny charm the bodysuit, or did Hermione always look like that?

Stepping out into the bedroom, Hermione kept her eyes on the floor. She didn't want to see their faces--she already knew how they were going to react. 

"Oh, my--" Alice couldn't finish her sentence around a deep breath that she took. 

"Someone call Pansy," Callista nearly fell over onto the bed. The sound of her hitting the mattress was what finally pulled Hermione's eyes up to the group. They were all staring at her as if she was some sort of model. "We found the witch whose going to be on the front cover of the first issue."

"Does it look okay?" Hermione asked, chewing on her bottom lip. 

"More than okay," Leona giggled. Her sister finished her thought. "You look breathtaking. I'd take you right now if you'd have me."

Coming from the witch who hadn't had sex once while being on the property, the words meant more to Hermione than Kiara probably realized.

There was a knock on the door which startled all five of the girls. Hermione hesitantly went to check on who it was, having to stand on her tip-toes to see through the peephole. It was as if Pansy knew they had said her name. 

"Holy shit."

Pansy's eyes were wide when the door opened, and her clipboard fell to the ground. Hermione wished everyone would stop complimenting her already. She knew that she was the last person anyone would expect to wear an outfit like that. But everyone was acting as if she was standing there fully naked. 

"Thank you?" Hermione's response came out as a question, which made Pansy compose herself. She reached down for the clipboard, still dressed in her usual work attire. 

"I was just coming to check on you," Pansy's eyebrow raised. "But, I can see that the girls have it all under control."

"Will you be at the party?" Hermione wasn't sure why she asked. She didn't want to admit that she'd begun to like Pansy and felt safer when she was around. It wasn't that the girls made her feel unsafe; of course, they didn't. But Pansy had been charged with making sure that Hermione was comfortable. 

"Of course!" Pansy chuckled at the question. "I wouldn't miss your first party for anything. I'll catch you when it starts."

Pansy turned to leave, and Hermione closed the door softly as she walked back to the mansion. When Hermione re-entered her bedroom, the girls had made themselves comfortable on her bed. Alice patted on the mattress for her to join them. 

"So, let's talk about what you want to get out of tonight."

* * *

The party was in full swing when Hermione finally caught sight of Ginny's vibrant hair. She was wearing a flawlessly designed bra and panty set in one of the most beautiful burgundy shades Hermione had ever seen. Black lace-trimmed the outside of the bra and panties, highlighting how pale her skin was. She looked like she belonged on the cover, not Hermione. 

Hermione politely excused herself from Pansy and the girls, leaving their comfortable position beside the pool. It didn't matter how much she was starting to like these girls; Ginny would always be her favorite. 

"You wore that one!" Ginny grabbed onto Harry's arm with a force that tugged his entire body in her direction. "My love, look at how gorgeous she is!" 

"Oh, um," Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to look everywhere except in Hermione's direction. "She does-- _ you do _ \--look. Um. Good."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him then, clearly not happy with his response. However, Hermione couldn't blame Harry. She felt the same way about him standing there in an unbuttoned white shirt and boxer shorts. Hermione was avoiding his body as much as he was avoiding hers. 

She had been surprised to realize that she didn't feel so out-of-place once everyone else was in as little clothing as she was. It was like being part of some kind of exclusive club, which in a way it was. No one seemed to be ashamed of their almost-naked bodies being so close to one another. 

Most people had gathered in the back area of the property, drinking and laughing as fairies took to the bushes and trees like small tea lights. One wizard was doing tricks with fire near the pool, and nearly twenty people stood entranced by his routine. Others had gathered by the zoo, and a number more were inside of the mansion. She could hear music thundering throughout the entirety of the first floor. 

Malfoy hadn't made an appearance, much to Hermione's relief and anxiety. She didn't like that she wanted to see him; wanted him to see her. She wondered what he would think to see her standing there like that--her hair pulled back with braids and then falling down her back. She was barefoot and holding some sort of cocktail that Alice had ordered for her. 

Hermione chatted with Ginny for a few minutes, and then her eyes wandered back to the group of witches sitting near the shallow end of the pool. All four of them watched her with hungry curiosity. 

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione stepped toward her friend and gestured toward the pool. "You have a small fan club. I told the girls I'd introduce you."

"The girls?" Ginny raised an eyebrow and leaned around Hermione to take a look. Her jaw dropped. "Alice wants to meet me?"

Before Hermione could get out another word, Ginny was dragging both of them toward the pool. Hermione had always admired Ginny's boldness, especially when it came to introductions and conversation. People tended to gravitate toward her for that very reason. 

Malfoy didn't appear until nearly midnight. Hermione felt it the moment that he stepped onto the back patio, shirtless and smirking. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand, and the other wrapped around maybe-Theodore. Both wizards were fit, and Hermione found her left leg bouncing beneath the patio table. She thought it was interesting that the two boys appeared to balance each other out. Malfoy was sharp muscles, defining cheekbones, and white-blonde hair, the other looked softer to the touch and had shaggy brown hair that fell to his shoulders. It appeared that only Blaise had considered getting a hair cut something of relative importance. 

Two sets of eyes--one pair an icy blue, the other a warm hazel--seemed to see right through the thin layer of fabric keeping Hermione from being fully exposed. The eyes stayed on her for what felt like hours. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to ignore their gaze and carry on polite conversation. She needed another drink.

Hermione excused herself and approached one of the tables set up beneath the awning. One provided the guests with an array of pre-mixed alcoholic beverages. Hermione had been drinking the red cocktail, not even bothering to read the ingredients. She chose the pink one for her third drink, hoping that the floral decorations had blocked her from view. 

"Enjoying yourself?"

The voice sounded like honey dripping over velvet. Hermione could hear her pulse and felt like an electric current had replaced the blood in her veins. 

"Well enough, thank you."

Hermione kept her eyes on the table, reading over the different name cards in front of each bowl and tap. She couldn't make out the words for the life of her. Because even though her eyes were on the table, her four other senses focused on Malfoy leaning casually against a column. 

"I must say I didn't think you'd accept the invitation."

She could feel him trying to get a good look at her face, begging her to look up. She wasn't going to do it--wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing the blush that kept dancing across her cheeks. 

"That's because you don't know me."

It was a half-lie. Hermione was surprised she'd accepted it as well. But, Malfoy didn't need to know that. And it was true that he didn't know her. They existed somewhere between strangers, acquaintances, and enemies. She was sure there was a diagram for that kind of relationship somewhere, if only she had the time and a library to figure it out. 

"You're right, I don't," Malfoy took a step toward her. His bare arm was in plain view, and she barely kept herself from following his hands up to his chest. She enjoyed a muscular, broad chest on a man. "Maybe I want to."

Hermione nearly fainted. Her mouth ran dry, and she sipped at her drink in an attempt to wet it again. He was making her head spin. 

"Maybe. If you can make it worth it."

What was she saying? Why was she responding? Why wouldn't her mouth just shut it?

"And what would Hermione Granger possibly want?" Malfoy leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. "What is it that the innocent and golden Hermione Granger desires?"

"Hermione!" Alice's voice sliced through the two of them. Draco leaned away, and his jaw clenched. Hermione wasn't sure if Alice was saving her, reminding Malfoy who he belonged to, or if she'd been genuinely unaware of the conversation they'd been having. 

"Coming!"

Hermione raised her eyes to meet Malfoy's then, enjoying the look of frustration that had taken over his features. She smiled at him politely before turning and walking back to the group of girls flagging her down. 

She seated herself beside Alice, knowing full well that Malfoy's eyes were still on her. To add insult to injury, she rested her head on Alice's shoulder. Alice wrapped an arm around Hermione in response and continued her story about a trip she had taken to the Scottish highlands in her youth. She then told Hermione about a book that she had found, but she'd lost it in her travels and wanted to know if Hermione had heard of it. Of course, Hermione had. 

* * *

It was nearing two in the morning, but Hermione couldn't turn her brain off. Most of the party-goers had left or gone inside for snacks and the comfort of sitting in Malfoy's sitting room. She pictured them inside, smoking and doing whatever else they did in the privacy of his mansion. 

Hermione sat alone near the shallow end of the pool, her legs immersed up to her kneecaps. She'd stopped drinking hours before and was simply enjoying the silence. The property was quite gorgeous at night and had the feeling of an expensive paradise. 

"You get invited to a party at a rich bachelor's mansion," a voice caught her off guard. She turned to see the boy with vibrant hazel eyes staring at her from behind a rose bush. She could tell he wanted to step closer but was keeping his distance. "And you insist on sitting by yourself outside? Doesn't sound like the Hermione Granger the Daily Prophet raves about."

"Depends on which articles you read about me."

Hermione eyed him carefully, unsure of his intentions for speaking with her. He stepped forward into the light, his hands at his sides. 

"Theodore," he stuck his hand out for her to shake. She nodded in response and took his hand. His skin was soft to the touch, and the handshake was firm. Hermione loved a good handshake. "Theodore Nott. I don't know if you remember me from school."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. She'd heard the name and knew that he was in Slytherin, but those were the only two facts that she had on him. 

"I'm afraid not."

Theodore eyed her cautiously as if he was worried she'd whip out her wand on him. But, her wand was back at her guest house, tucked into her suitcase. She wanted him to state his purpose for approaching her and for striking up a conversation. She knew Slytherins--they never acted unless there was something in it for them. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" 

His words sounded hesitant as if he wasn't used to having to ask for permission. Hermione moved the towel that she was sitting on so that he could sit down beside her. She knew how uncomfortable it was to sit in wet clothes. And his satin underwear seemed expensive. 

"No worries about not remembering me," he said when he had made himself comfortable. "I preferred it that way in school."

"I wish people didn't know me," Hermione let out a deep sigh and leaned backward on her arms. She tried to ignore how he was staring at the lace fabric on her chest as it stretched with the motion. Theodore chuckled softly and reached up a hand to brush the hair out of his face. 

"It's a blessing and a curse," he allowed. It was Hermione's turn to chuckle. 

"How can something so wonderful be a curse?" Hermione asked. "People think that because they see my name, and recognize my face, they know me. And when you turn out to be a disappointment and not all of the things the papers and stories make you out to be, they feel cheated."

"Ah, but that's not the case," Theodore looked down at the water in the pool. The ripples in the water reflected up onto his face, making shapes along his cheekbones. "They  _ want _ to know you. No one wants to know a guy like me."

His words sounded like the truth, but Hermione couldn't help herself. She immediately wanted to know why he felt that way. It was rather unlike a Slytherin to be self-conscious. Part of their appeal was that they knew they were better than everyone else. The confidence that surrounded them made you keep looking, no matter how terrible you thought they were. And that was real power. 

"What kind of guy are you?"

Hermione didn't know if it was how much he'd had to drink, or if no one else had asked him that question. But she learned more about Theodore in however-much-time-passed than she had about many people in years. Perhaps it was because she'd grown up with her friends, so she knew them the same way she knew herself. Or maybe it was because any other relationships in her life were strictly professional. But she got a thrill out of listening to him speak. 

She learned that his mother had died when he was young and that his father had raised him. He could see Thestrals on the Hogwarts grounds in the same way that Luna and Harry could. Life for him had been standard by pureblood status until his father ended up in Azkaban following the fight at the Department of Mysteries during their Fifth Year. Theodore was sixteen at the time and was under the guidance of the Ministry until he turned eighteen. During their Seventh Year, while Hermione, Harry, and Ron were chasing pieces of Lord Voldemort's soul across Britain, he and Pansy were left to fend for themselves. They weren't treated horribly but watching Death Eaters harass their fellow schoolmates changed how they viewed the pureblood cause. He was one of the few Slytherins who evacuated during the battle, along with Pansy. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Hermione ended up saying. "But, I'm surprised you and Malfoy are friends."

Theodore laughed then. It was a sweet sound that echoed across the pool. 

"Draco is a character, that's for sure," Theodore looked away from her. He was choosing his words carefully, not wanting to leave room for interpretation. "He's a complicated guy who's done a lot of complicated things. Those kinds of people need more support than people like you and me."

Hermione nodded, thinking that she understood. Malfoy was something, if not an enigma. Her memory of him was of a boy who hated those who weren't considered pure like him. He went out of his way to embarrass people he and his family saw as a threat to the dignity of Wizarding Society. Malfoy had always been black to her, but Theodore was smudging it grey. 

"How did you end up here?" Hermione asked. She didn't know if she meant working for the magazine or at the property all-together. Theodore turned to look at her again. 

"A friend needed help," he said. His tone was rather matter-of-fact as if Hermione asked a silly question. "And I had time to spare."

"So, you aren't here for the women and parties?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. 

"They're a plus, for sure," Theodore chewed on his bottom lip. "But it takes a special kind of witch to grab my attention."

His eyes began to smolder, and Hermione began to feel herself unraveling in front of him. She cleared her throat and took an unsteady breath. 

"What kind of witch grabs your attention?"

Part of her wanted to walk--no, run--away as fast as she could. She rubbed her thighs together without thinking anything of it, and Theodore noticed. He smelled like sandalwood and bonfire smoke with a hint of firewhiskey. His lips tugged up in a smirk that ignited something between her legs. 

"One that accepts an invitation to a mansion notorious for its wild sex parties even though she has no real intention of participating." His voice had taken on a rough tone that had her lips opening slightly. "One that doesn't realize how wonderful she looks on any given day, let alone wearing something like  _ that _ ."

He nodded toward her body, displayed out before him as she leaned back. Hermione's brain was rapidly firing potential responses, none of them making it from her head to her mouth. 

"Have you been inside the grotto yet?" Theodore asked when Hermione didn't speak or run away. She shook her head and following his eyes to the waterfall on the other side of the pool. She could just make out dim lights coming from behind it. 

"I'm not wearing a bathing suit," was her only objection. Theodore slipped into the pool and stood a few inches away from her, just close enough that if he reached out his hand, he could touch her knee. 

"One swim won't hurt the lace," he said as if he knew from experience. And then a playful look came over his face, with a hint of a challenge. What was it with these men challenging her to do things? "Or you can take it off. Neither myself nor the pool will mind. Or you can walk away and leave me standing here. The possibilities are endless, Granger."

"Hermione." 

She eyed him carefully. He held his hands up in mock-surrender, giving her a small bow as an apology. 

"Hermione."

He corrected himself. Theodore was right, of course. She could walk away right then without a second look back in his direction. She didn't have to get into the pool, half-clothed or not. He was giving her an option, asking for permission without so many words. She stood and began to reach for the zipper in the back. 

"Close your eyes," she said. And even though it was a bullshit demand because Theodore was going to see her naked anyway, he complied. Theodore also went so far as to cover his eyes with his hands. If he was anyone else and the circumstances were any different, Hermione might have thought it was sweet. 

Quickly, she slipped out of the bodysuit and let it drop to the ground on her towel. Hermione took a deep breath and then sunk into the water. She realized that her top half was very much visible, and her hair wasn't providing her any extra coverage. 

"You can open them."

She felt like it was the first time a guy was seeing her naked. Instead of raking his eyes over her like she thought he would, Theodore reached out a hand. She took it and let him lead her across the pool and under the waterfall. 

The inside of the grotto was like nothing Hermione had ever seen. The top of the artificial cavern glowed with different color lights, shimmering like crystals in the darkness. Almost all of the noise from the party was blocked out by the sound of the waterfall. They were utterly alone. His hand slid up her shoulder, pausing every so often so that she could tell him to stop if she wanted. 

Hermione turned to face him with her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. She was nervous but excited. She wasn't the one to act on impulse, but everything in her body was screaming for her to let him take over. He'd done this before; he knew what the rules were. And it was clear that he wouldn't push her past her limit. 

"You're a lot prettier than they give you credit for, Hermione."

His fingers had made it to her neck, where they paused briefly before stopping at her jaw. She stepped toward him, the feeling of Theodore's touch making her want more. She wanted to see what he could do--how he could make her feel. She'd allowed him to bring her this far, and she wanted to know how much further he could take her. 

"Thank you," she looked down at his chest and then back up at him. He was taller than she'd expected, and her head barely came up to the middle of his chest. She placed one hand on each of his collarbones, feeling the supple skin beneath it. His body was warm to the touch and slick with water from the pool. "Not many people tell me that."

"They should," he smirked down at her. "You won't end up in situations like this."

"I came here to end up in a situation like this," she stared up at him, wishing that he would just go ahead and make a move on her already. She wanted it, so what was the hold-up?

"Careful what you wish for," he tilted her head up and leaned down. Their lips were hovering so  _ close _ but so  _ far _ from one another that it was driving her crazy. "Can I kiss you?"

"I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't."

Her words were barely out, and then his lips were on hers, and shockwaves were going up Hermione's spine. Theodore's tongue slipped its way into her mouth, and rather than shy away from it, she welcomed the feeling. His tongue expertly battled her own, quickly overtaking it. It then moved on to conquer every inch of her mouth, almost claiming it as his own. 

One of his hands traveled down to her chest, cupping her left breast in a way that took the remaining breath from her lungs. He teased at her nipple with this thumb and forefinger, and she moved closer in an attempt to get that feeling everywhere. Theodore let out a growl and grabbed her hips, lifting her to sit her on the side of the pool. He pulled her close to the edge and was standing in between her legs. Theodore's lips were on her neck as his hands went in search of her other nipple, teasing that one as he had the first. 

Hermione let out a soft moan before she could stop herself, and the sound earned a soft laugh against her neck. The feeling of his breath on her skin only added to what she was feeling. Each sensation that he caused on her skin traveled downward and rooted itself between her legs. Theodore pulled back enough to look Hermione in the eyes as his right hand continued its descent. The left stayed rooted in her hair, holding her in place. His grip was just firm enough that every time she moved, it tugged on her curls. She hadn't realized that was something she'd enjoy until it was happening. 

"Been a while, hasn't it?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Those Slytherins sure spent a lot of time raising eyebrows. She wondered if any of them had ever gotten an eyebrow stuck in that position. 

"A year or so," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Theodore's fingers danced across her hip bones from left to right and back again, narrowly avoiding where she wanted to be touched. 

"It's a shame, really," his pointer finger trailed lower, finding her slit and traveling its length. The feeling made her breath catch in her throat. "I don't know if I can make up for that much lost time."

He kept his eyes on hers as his finger started to rub at her clit in slow, agonizing circles. For a moment, she felt drunk again, her head spinning as she almost lost her balance. Theodore caught her by the back at the last second, holding her up. 

"I think you'll do just fine."

Hermione grabbed at his shoulders so that he wouldn't have to hold her up, and his hand made its way back to her hair. He pulled her head to the side so that he could kiss along her neck. As he slid a finger inside of her, he nipped at her skin, causing her toes to curl. 

"I'd like to do better than just fine."

Hermione had meant to answer, but a moan escaped her lips instead of words. He worked her slowly, getting her used to the feeling, before adding a second. And then Theodore was moving them upward as if signaling someone to come closer, and the sensation had her gripping onto his hair. And then those two fingers were moving faster, she was ready to let go, about to fall over, and he pulled them away. 

She couldn't help the look of betrayal that came over her face. The smirk that graced Theodore's lips made her want to smack him. Hermione settled for scratching down his back instead. He bumped her nose with his and laughed. It was soft, and filled with adoration. He thought she was cute when she was frustrated. Well, he had another thing--

"It feels better if you wait for it."

Theodore captured her lips in a kiss as his fingers entered her again, exploring every inch inside of her. He brought her to the edge and then stopped two more times, teasing her until she was practically begging him to let her spill over the edge. He nipped at her bottom lip, and she bit back, pulling herself closer to him. 

And then her world was crashing down just like the waterfall. Her knees clamped around Theodore's hips, and he pulled back to watch her face as she came, his fingers not stopping until her head tilted to the side. His face sparkled with amusement as he stared down at her. He dipped his hand into the water before bringing it up to her face. 

"I think that's enough fun for one night." He placed a surprisingly soft kiss on her cheek, and the sensation brought her back to earth. 

"Huh?"

Hermione wasn't sure that she had heard him correctly. It sounded like he was saying that their night was over. Had she done something wrong? He hadn't even given her a chance to do something right. 

"Tonight was about you, Hermione." She liked the way he said her name. He didn't have to force it out the way Malfoy did. Hermione was sure that even Pansy had to remind herself to use Hermione's first name. She couldn't blame them, per se. Old habits die hard. "Tomorrow night can be about me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sank back into the water, suddenly feeling self-conscious. The pair made their way back to the side of the pool, Theodore hopping out and holding out the towel for her before she could object. She wrapped herself in it and was surprised when he was still standing there. 

"The least I can do is walk you home," Theodore had a playful grin on his lips. "Make sure you get home safely."

Hermione didn't object and allowed him to walk her to her guest house. It was a short walk, less than a minute, and the entire time she felt as if she was in a daze. They arrived at her door all too quickly, and Hermione turned to face him. 

"Um," she searched the ground for the proper words. "Thank you, Theodore. That was--"

"You can call me Theo," he took a step toward her, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. "And no problem. You can repay me tomorrow."

Her body, still humming from what his fingers did, began to full-on vibrate. And then he was reaching down to plant a soft peck on her lips as if he'd just walked her home from a date. Theodore gave her one last smile before turning and disappearing into the mansion. Hermione barely made it inside before she was collapsing onto the floor, a wet and dizzy mess. 


	4. THE GAME HOUSE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Draco Malfoy disappeared. It had been five years since the heir to the Malfoy inheritance had been seen or heard. And there were rumors floating around; rumors that Hermione couldn’t even imagine. Stories of wild sex parties, insane amounts of potions and drugs, both Muggle and Magical. Surely, that was all they were—rumors. Until Hermione was approached in her office one day by Pansy Parkinson, clad in her professional robes and an eyebrow raised. Hermione was invited to the Mansion.

Hermione nearly overslept the next morning. She'd gone to bed thinking about Theodore and how fingers had known precisely how to make fireworks shoot off in her head. But, in her dreams, it was Malfoy leaving trails of blazing hot kisses across her skin. Hermione had woken up a couple of times, gasping out his name. She hadn't done that in years, and even then, it had been for vastly different reasons. And she hadn't been gasping--she'd been screaming.

She pulled herself from her bed at 10:50, yanking on a t-shirt and sweatpants as quickly as possible. Hermione brushed her teeth in forty-five seconds flat and tried not to run as she made her way across the property. Hermione didn't realize that she'd forgotten her shoes until she stepped into the dining room, the wooden floor cold on the bottoms of her feet. 

Fortunately, only Pansy, Alice, Callista, Leona, and Kiara were seated at the table. Hermione hovered by the door for a moment, unsure of where to sit. 

"There's coffee, tea, and juice over there," Pansy pointed to a table beneath the window. "Help yourself. Food will be served when Draco arrives."

Hermione nodded and poured herself a cup of tea, adding a splash of milk and a few spoonfuls of sugar. She turned to face the dining table and pursed her lips. Alice tapped on the chair that she'd sat in the night before for dinner, and Hermione took her seat quickly. 

"What products do you use on your face?" Alice asked, staring intently at Hermione. Her chin rested in her hand, her blue eyes scanning Hermione's face. "Your skin is gorgeous."

"Um," Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't?"

She hadn't meant for it to come out as a question. Hermione was never the kind of witch to worry about facial potions and charms to keep the acne at bay. It was never something that she'd struggled with, so the thought had never occurred to her. 

"I'm jealous," Alice let out a small sigh. "I spend nearly thirty minutes a day on my skin, and it's still splotchy."

Footsteps approached from the hallway, and Hermione could barely contain the blush on her cheeks as Theodore stepped into the room. His hair was disheveled, chaotic strands sticking up at odd angles. He yawned as he took his seat, a smile forming when his eyes landed on Hermione. 

"Morning girls," he said. Theodore's voice had a kind of sing-song lilt to it like he was moments away from breaking into a musical routine. "Morning, Hermione."

"Morning." All six of the girls responded in unison, their voices all carrying the same half-awake tone. Hermione wasn't hungover thank Godrick, but she was feeling a million other things. Rather than a pounding headache, the image of Theodore sitting there shirtless was causing her stomach to flutter. Instead of wanting to throw up, she wanted to jump into the pool and cool herself off. 

No one verbally acknowledged Theodore singling Hermione out. Leona and Kiara seemed the most out of it, their eyes barely open. Both girls sat with their knees pulled up to their chests in their seats. Callista looked tired. Alice appeared radiant as always. 

Pansy shot a side-long glance in Hermione's direction but didn't say anything. Hermione wasn't sure if the look on her face had kept Pansy's lips shut, or if the witch was planning a speech for when they were alone.

Did Pansy know? Was Pansy upset with her?

Malfoy entered the room then, rubbing at his temples. He sat slowly in the chair, directly opposite Hermione, his legs sprawling out before him. He was wearing the same clothing as the night before. Malfoy's muscles flexed with every breath that he took, and Hermione couldn't help but stare. Between Malfoy and Theodore, she was going to combust. 

"Pans," his voice was hoarse. She wondered what he'd been doing the night before to lose his voice. "Can you remind me to never listen to Blaise again? Under any circumstances?"

"Had a fun night, did ya?" Theodore laughed. Food appeared on the table before them, and everyone began to pick up their forks. Except for Malfoy, who sat back in the chair with his eyes closed. 

"Piss off," came Malfoy's only reply. Pansy kept her eyes on him as she ate her food. He must have felt her staring at him because he took his hands from his face and stared at her. "Can I help you?"

"No." Pansy shook her head and turned back to her meal, pushing potatoes around her plate. Hermione stared down at the eggs and toast in front of her. Rather than eating, she sipped at her tea gingerly. 

All of the Slytherins were tense, and Blaise was missing from the table. She watched the three of them stare at one another as if they were the only people in the room. Pansy looked concerned; Theodore seemed smug; Malfoy looked like he was ready to launch himself out of a window. 

She hadn't seen him look that tired since his trial. He seemed fragile as if even the faintest of sounds would shatter him to pieces. While she appreciated the general advantage this gave her--should she have to curse him to oblivion--she couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. 

"Take this," Theodore pulled a small vial from beneath the table. Hermione wondered where he'd kept it--he hardly had on any clothes. Malfoy took it and emptied the bottle without even looking at it, tossing it to the floor when it was empty. A house-elf appeared and picked it up, disappearing as quickly as he'd arrived. "Feel better?"

"I will when you stop talking," Malfoy spoke through gritted teeth. None of the women seemed bothered by his apparent moodiness. Hermione assumed that this was normal for him--being hungover on Saturday mornings. If it was so unpleasant, then why do it?

Theodore and Pansy shared another look before both of their eyes turned on Hermione. She dropped her gaze to her plate for a moment before taking a deep breath. Hermione raised her eyes again, not wanting to appear scared of them; Theodore cocked an eyebrow at her. 

"I'm going to be heading out on Wednesday to visit with my family," Alice spoke up. Malfoy's hands made their way into his hair and tugged. Alice seemed to either not notice or ignore his actions entirely. "If you wanted to join me."

"I have a meeting." Malfoy picked up his head, taking a deep breath. Alice nodded and looked back down at her food, not speaking for the rest of breakfast. Interesting.

Hermione assumed that Theodore had given Malfoy an anti-hangover potion. Within minutes Malfoy's body relaxed, and he stood up to get himself a cup of coffee. He was incredibly close to her, as the service table was set up directly behind her. She could feel the warmth radiating off his body, unencumbered by clothing. He smelled like sweat with a hint of sandalwood, which she assumed was his leftover cologne. The scent was dizzying. 

When he sat back at the table, he and Pansy struck up a quiet conversation. Hermione couldn't hear them over the feeling of Theodore's eyes on her hands as they picked up her fork. She snuck a glance up at him, staring for a moment too long. Malfoy noticed and cleared his throat with purpose, pulling Theodore's attention away from her. That was also interesting. 

* * *

Somehow, Alice ended up following Hermione back to her guest house without the rest of her group. It was Hermione's first time being completely alone with her, and she could sense that the other witch wanted to talk. Alice's failed attempt at speaking with Malfoy during breakfast had affected her. However, Hermione wasn't sure how she could be of much help. She didn't have much experience with boys or friends. Ginny was the one who handled advice-giving; Hermione was around strictly to keep everyone out of danger and the hospital. 

"I love it here, don't get me wrong," Alice said from the loveseat in the sitting area. Hermione was fiddling in the kitchen, searching for something small to snack on. She hadn't been able to eat most of her breakfast due to the three sets of Slytherin eyes that hadn't strayed from her face. Hermione found a carton of strawberries and some peaches in the fridge. All she needed was a bowl and a cutting board. "I just feel alone sometimes. Which is ridiculous, you know? With so many people here all of the time."

Hermione began with the strawberries. She cut the leaves off and then halved them, tossing them into the bowl. It took her a few minutes to formulate a response that she didn't think would send Alice over the edge. 

"I'm sure the feeling will pass," Hermione offered. "You're probably still feeling the effects of whatever happened last night."

"You may be right," Alice collapsed onto the loveseat, pulling the decorative pillow close to her chest. "I don't know. I feel like I'm missing something."

Ah. So Alice _did_ want to claim Malfoy as her as his own. Or, instead, to be claimed by him. It was beginning to make sense. But, how should Hermione approach it? She wanted to offer her new friend genuine advice, but Alice's slight admission had stirred up something in Hermione's chest. As she started slicing up peaches, she tried to shove the feeling aside. 

Hermione stared at Alice across the breakfast bar, her lips pursed. Alice was more than beautiful--she was elegant. Her legs were long and toned, her skin an excellent shade of tan that could only be from hours in the sun. Hermione had pictures of Muggle models in her mind, strutting down catwalks with their chins held high and men throwing themselves at their feet. Alice could walk into a room and pick any one of the wizards inside of it, but she was stuck on a man who wasn't interested in anything more than physical. 

A man, Hermione was sure, wasn't capable of a monogamous relationship. He could love, possibly, but commitment? Marriage? It didn't seem to fit the lifestyle that he'd begun to entertain. 

"I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for," Hermione opted to act as if she had no idea what Alice was missing. "Sometimes, things take time."

"But how much time?" Alice rolled onto her back. "I've been here the longest. And yet he won't even come with me to visit my family."

 _Shit_. Alice was going to make Hermione give her advice. On how to get Draco Malfoy to care for her. Hermione racked her brain for an appropriate response. 

"I'm sure he'll come around," Hermione offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. 

"I hope so too," Alice turned to face Hermione, her blue eyes a little too wet for Hermione's liking. "I really hope so."

Hermione tried her hardest to get the previous night's dreams out of her mind. It was inappropriate for her to have sexual fantasies about Malfoy while his _mistress_ was crying over him in her living room. That was on his property. To which she'd received a personal invitation.

 _Yikes_. Hermione put the cutting board and knife into the sink before leaning against the counter. She popped a strawberry into her mouth and looked at Alice, feeling helpless. Alice, she supposed, had become a sort of friend in the 48 hours that they'd known each other. Social obligation dictated that Hermione be helpful and supportive. But also, as Ginny would always say, brutally honest. However, crushing Alice's hopes and dreams seemed a bit too much, given their delicate friendship. 

Was this what all friendships with other women were like? Were she, Ginny, and Luna the exception to the rule? Or had so many years of mutual struggle given them something more profound than a friendship, and therefore none of those rules applied to them?

Where was Ginny when Hermione needed her?

* * *

For the second evening of festivities, Hermione decided to try out a babydoll slip in ruby red, with matching panties underneath. The slip clung to her body with ease, a small cut out going up from her thigh to her waist. The edging along the bottom was more lace of the same color. Hermione pulled her hair back into a delicate bun, wanting to show off her shoulders. 

_This is dangerous_ , Hermione thought to herself as she turned in front of the mirror. _Maybe you should wear something less dramatic_. 

No. Hermione was going to wear what she wanted. Despite whatever Alice was feeling, Hermione was under no obligation to subdue herself to make another witch feel better. It didn't matter how much she liked her--Alice wasn't going to ruin her day with useless pining after Draco _fucking_ Malfoy. 

Thinking his name was enough to make butterflies shoot out from her left kidney, taking over much of her stomach. The sun was already beginning to set, and rhythmic music was thumping from somewhere on the property. Hermione didn't have time to be holed up inside her bathroom, considering choices that wouldn't matter in less than four days. She'd come here for herself, and no one else. And no matter how much she wanted to help those around her, she had to be selfish for once. Or something like that. Ginny had phrased it a lot better the night before. 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione exited the guest house. Nearly one hundred people were congregating in the back garden area and hanging out in the pool. Malfoy was seated in a hammock, Alice to his left and Callista to his right. He played with Callista's hair, but his arm around Alice was limp and fell to her waist. Theodore was standing off to the side, talking with Pansy. 

Hermione quickly realized she was on her own for the evening. That was fine. She was a grown woman--she could handle her own even if she didn't have her wand. 

She tried her best to mingle with some of the other girls that she'd seen the night before. She learned that four other witches, whose names she couldn't remember, also lived at the mansion. However, they weren't as close to Malfoy as the others. They were newer, less experienced when it came to managing him, and being one of his playthings. 

Two other girls stayed there temporarily, just like Hermione, having been invited by girls with permanent residence. No men other than Blaise, Theodore, and Archie called the mansion home. 

"You look breathtaking."

Hermione jumped when Theodore appeared on her left, his lips inches from her ear. She nearly spilled the drink that was in her hands. 

"You scared me," she turned to face him, a hand pressed to her chest. She had to stop being so on edge. Why couldn't she just relax? "Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone who's been through a war?"

"Keeps things interesting." Theodore shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes but allowed herself to smile in return. 

"So, what do you usually do during these parties?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her drink. 

"I'm usually inside dancing," Theodore nudged her with his elbow. "If you're up for it. You're quite the dancer if I remember correctly."

Hermione couldn't help but blush. Few people let her live down the Yule Ball--she never understood why. 

"I can be taught dance routines, or a simple waltz," she chose her words carefully, not wanting to give too much of herself up. If he wanted to dance, they could dance. "But just dancing? I'd rather face off against a mountain troll."

"I hear you're rather good at that too, Hermione," the sound of her name coming from his lips sent tingles down her spine. She could feel someone staring at her and looked up to see Malfoy's eyes cold as he watched at her across the patio. "What do you say I take you inside and show you my moves?"

Alice was chatting enthusiastically about something, not realizing that Malfoy wasn't paying her the least amount of attention. Hermione kept her eyes on Malfoy as she looped her arm through Theodore's. 

"Let's see what you've got."

Malfoy watched both of them make their way to the frosted glass door. She swore she saw a vein pop out of his temple when Theodore opened the door for her and bowed, ever a gentleman. 

It turned out that Theodore was a fantastic dancer. The music sounded like something Hermione would find at a night club in Muggle London, which made her a little more comfortable. She'd hate to admit it, but Hermione had spent her fair share of nights in a night club or two, letting herself go. So, when Theodore took her hand and turned her around, Hermione knew where to place her body against his. His hands quickly found themselves attached to her hips, and she let herself lean back into the feeling of him. 

Hermione let herself get lost in the beat of the music, enjoying how it pulsated through her body. Vibrations ricocheted through her muscles and moved her limbs to make Theodore's breath hitch in his throat on more than one occasion. She couldn't help but smile at the sound, and repeated the motion, moving her hips slowly and with purpose. 

"Christ, Granger," Theodore breathed into her ear. She spun to face him then, chewing on her bottom lip. 

"It's Hermione," she said, reaching her arms up around his neck. He gave her a wicked smile, and she watched as a droplet of sweat slid down his temple. "It's getting hot in here, isn't it?"

"A little," Hermione couldn't help but notice that his eyes jumped briefly to her lips. Something caught his eye over her shoulder, and Hermione turned slightly to follow his gaze. Blaise was standing a few feet away from them, holding up a baggie filled with white powder. She turned back to Theodore, an eyebrow raised. Now she was doing it. "How is it that Muggle drugs end up at a Wizard sex party?"

"There's a fair amount of Muggle-borns and half-bloods here," Theodore smirked. "And we like having a good time. Care to join us?"

Hermione shook her head no, taking a step back from him. 

"Have fun and don't OD," she said to him. Theodore laughed. 

"You underestimate me, love," he placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Meet you outside?" 

Hermione nodded and let him run off in search of his friend. She was figuring out that, Muggle or not, boys in their mid-twenties would do anything to "have a good time." While she thought it was silly, who was she to judge?

The fresh air outside was invigorating against her skin, and she lavished in the feeling of the breeze. All of that dancing had worked up her appetite, and she scanned the table stocked with bite-sized snacks. These parties were well-catered. She was just about to make a decision when Malfoy reached out a hand to beat her to a bowl of crisps. 

"What is it with you men and sneaking up on me?" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can a girl get a break?"

"It doesn't look like you're particularly interested in taking one, Granger." Draco popped a crisp into his mouth and stared at her, his jaw set. 

"It's Hermione," her voice was beginning to rise, but she couldn't help herself. "What is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," Malfoy sounded like he had a problem. "What is _your_ problem?"

Something flashed in Malfoy's eyes, but the emotion disappeared before Hermione could identify it. 

" _My_ problem is that I received an invitation to a mansion where I'm supposedly allowed to do whatever I want," Hermione squared her jaw to match his expression. She straightened herself up in an attempt to make herself appear taller. "And apparently, I can't even eat crisps in peace."

Malfoy laughed--only, it wasn't a sound of amusement. It sounded dark like he was upset. 

"So, _that's_ what you want?" 

The intensity with which he held her gaze was almost too much. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to run away--go, pack her things, and leave right then. Instead, she took a step closer. 

"A crisp, yes." she looked him up and down. It turned out, that was a mistake. He was wearing only pajama bottoms, emerald green satin, which hung low on his hips. It didn't take much of an imagination to picture what was hiding beneath them. 

"Don't act daft," he frowned at her. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No, Malfoy, I fucking don't."

It wasn't like Hermione to curse, but he was acting like a twat. But, he looked damn good while doing it. 

"Am I interrupting something?" Theodore stuck his hand in the bowl, grabbing a handful of crisps and popping them into his mouth one by one. It was like he was watching a show. Screw every last one of those boys. They were getting on Hermione's last nerve. 

"I don't know," Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "Is he?"

"No," Hermione said, instead of _fuck you_. "I was just leaving."

And with that, Hermione turned and marched off toward her guest house without a second glance back in their direction. She heard Theodore yell something, and what sounded like a bowl getting smashed. Good. 

* * *

Hermione was hardly back to her guest house when Theodore was thundering down the walk after her. He overshot her by a few feet and had to double back. If Hermione hadn't been ready to castrate both him and Malfoy, she might have laughed. 

"He's a jealous prick, isn't he?" Theodore chuckled. "Here. I saved a few of them before he smashed the bowl on the table."

Theodore had a napkin with six or so crisps on it. She stared at them, weighing her options. She could stay upset with both of them, or cut her losses and accept that Malfoy was always going to be an ass, and Theodore wasn't all that bad. Hermione took the napkin from his hand, stopping in the middle of the walk to pop one into her mouth. 

"Thank you," she tried to offer him a smile. Theodore pursed his lips and checked over their shoulders. Then he shrugged and looked back down to her. 

"Have you been to the game house yet?" he asked. Hermione shook her head, and he reached out a hand. Unlike the night before, she hesitated to reach out and take his hand, to let him lead her away somewhere to do who knew what. 

_So that's what you want?_

Was it what she wanted? She knew she was craving it. It wasn't a want, but a kind of desire--like the world could be ending, but wherever Theodore takes her, she's going to enjoy it. She needed to enjoy it. She would leave the mansion in a few days, and Theodore would stay behind, and she'd go back to her dull routine. But, right then? She had an opportunity. 

More confidently, she reached out her hand to let him take it. He guided her down the walkway, past her guest house, toward the little zoo that Malfoy had built. Tucked away behind the poolhouse was a garden wall, the size of the fence that guarded the entire property. An elegant archway guided them onto a smaller path which led up to a modern-looking cottage. The red, faded brick was stark compared to the faded beige brick covering the rest of the property. The front door was all glass, and inside, Hermione could see a billiard table. 

"After you m'lady," Theodore opened the door and bowed. As she passed him, he reached out a hand to playfully smack her ass. 

"Theo!" she giggled in a hushed voice, swatting at him like they were in Third Year flirting in the courtyard. Hermione felt giddy; there was no other word to describe it. 

When he stepped into the room and shut the door, Hermione took the time to turn around and take it in. The billiard table took up the center of the room, commanding attention, and appreciation. Around it was four bar tables, two on each side, with two chairs at each. A handsome bar took up the back wall, and two dart boards hung off to the side. 

"Are you any good at pool?" Theodore asked. Hermione chuckled, thinking back on holidays at her uncle's house. The billiards table in his basement was nowhere near as expensive as the one before her, but she'd spent enough summers competing against her cousins and uncles. 

"I'm decent," Hermione walked around the table and started popping the balls from the previous game from each of the pockets. "You rack, I break?"

Theodore raised an eyebrow at her and grabbed two cue sticks from the wall. He handed one to her before doing as instructed. She watched him delicately place each of the balls inside the triangle, alternating solids, and stripes. Theodore removed the rack and then leaned casually against one of the tables, eyeing her. She could feel the same energetic tug that she had the previous night urging her on to do and say things she usually wouldn't. 

"Are you going to get me a drink?" she nodded in the bar's direction. "Or are you going to let the lady die of thirst?"

"Are you sure you the sorting hat put you in the proper house?" Theodore asked as he walked to the bar. She saw him reach for the fridge, out of which he produced a bottle of champagne. As he poured the glasses, she lined up the cue ball to take her first shot. "Because you seem rather--hey!"

Theodore whipped around to watch as solids and stripes began flying around the table. She sunk two stripes, the red and yellow. Hermione gave him her best _oops_ face before lining up to take her next shot. 

"I seem rather what?" she asked. She sank the green one while maintaining eye contact. She thought the look that came over his face was rather charming. He set the glasses down on one of the tables and came over to her, the classical Slytherin-smirk making its way onto his face. Hermione wasn't sure how each of them wore it so well. 

Theodore wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Cunning."

Hermione shivered and missed the orange stripes by inches. Theodore chuckled as he pulled away from her, reaching for his own cue stick. He only managed to sink one of his solids before it was Hermione's turn again. He watched her with smoldering eyes, the hazel color turning a wonderful shade of amber. He sipped at his champagne as she sunk the orange and then the blue. 

"You're a bit more than decent," he aimed at the solid red ball, only one of his eyes open. The ball missed the pocket by a hair. Hermione giggled, which caused him to turn around with an eyebrow raised. "You think this is funny?"

"You're rather awful at pool for someone who challenged me to a game." Hermione giggled. Theodore dropped the cue stick and grabbed for her, an enthusiastic laugh bubbling past his lips. She made a run for it but he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Suddenly, Hermione was pinned against a wall, and their faces were close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. 

"At least I'm pretty good at other things." Theodore's lips brushed against hers so softly she wasn't sure if she was making it up. Hermione's hips rolled forward without her approval as her hands grabbed on to his waist. It was frustrating, the way he barely touched her. His hands ghosted around her bare skin, causing goosebumps to freckle her arms and legs. Every muscle in her body was tense, on edge, waiting for him to pull them apart. 

Finally, Theodore pressed his lips to hers. She leaned into the feeling of it, her fingers grabbing onto his biceps. Suddenly, she was being lifted up and carried to a leather couch in the corner of the room. Theodore sat down with her on his lap, which gave her the freedom to roll her hips forward again. To hell with the game and the party and Malfoy being a prat-- _this_ was what Hermione wanted. She kissed her way down his neck to his bare chest, as his hands slid beneath her babydoll slip. 

"Is there a color that you don't look good in?" Theodore asked as his fingers slid up her thigh. Hermione's breath caught as his fingers reached her panties, teasing her through the thin fabric. She almost couldn't give a proper answer--her mind spinning. 

"Black," she finally responded. "Makes me look frumpy."

"I don't think anything could make you look frumpy," Theodore pulled back to take in the image of her. One of his hands found its way to her breast, his fingers teasing a nipple and her clit at the same time. The combination was exhilarating. "Your body is a dream."

He captured her in a kiss again as he slid her panties to the side and slipped a finger inside of her. He worked her with his finger slowly, which was fine, but it wasn't enough. 

"If you're gonna go that slow," Hermione's voice was rough in his ear. "Then at least give me another finger."

Theodore practically growled. He took hold of the hair at the base of her neck to hold her in place, hovering inches over his lap. He did as she asked, watching her face as he did. Her lips parted as she took in a steadying breath. That delicious pressure was beginning to grow in her stomach, and her toes curled. Theodore picked up the pace, angling his fingers even deeper. 

"Theo, I'm gonna--"

He pulled them out quickly, laughing as she grabbed at his shoulders and groaned. 

"Tonight's about me, remember?" He placed a delicate kiss on her lips. "On your knees."

Hermione surprised herself with how quickly she slid to the floor in front of him. The task at hand was never appealing to her, and she did it out of reciprocity. For the first time in her life, she wanted his cock in her mouth. She wanted to know what he tasted like; wanted to see what kinds of faces he would make. She wanted to make _him_ scream _her_ name. 

She pawed at him through his boxer shorts as she peppered kisses along his abdomen. He was biting his bottom lip and running his hands over her face, neck, and shoulders. Hermione tugged at the waistband and pulled them down, launching herself at his cock as soon as it sprang free. Theodore's body tensed as she licked a path from the base to the tip, her tongue swirling in two slow circles. He was bigger than she thought he would be--the thought was thrilling. In one breath he was in her mouth, her tongue making patterns along his member as she slowly moved up and down. 

"Shit--" His grip on her hair tightened, and Theodore's free hand grabbed at his own hair. "You-- _yes_."

Hermione moaned around him at the sound of his breath catching in his throat. Encouraged, she started going faster, taking more of him in with each movement. Theodore's head dropped back onto the couch and he moaned into the ceiling. 

"Come up here," Theodore pulled her off of him and their lips crashed together. Hermione was grabbing at every inch of his skin, pulling him as close to her as possible. "Bend over the billiard table." 

He released his hold on her hair, and she got to her feet as gracefully as she could manage. In four quick steps she was laying herself on the cool velvet tabletop, her legs spread out for him. When he didn't stand right away, Hermione pouted at him. Theodore stood then, kicking his boxershorts away as he made his way to her. A hand ghosted from her hip to her ass, massaging her skin as it went. She didn't realize that he was kneeling behind her until he captured her clit with his mouth. 

"Theo--" She gasped out his name, her fingernails scratching along the surface of the table. And then, a finger was slipping into her as his tongue ravaged her clit; her knees began to shake. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum for me," he whispered the words against her inner thigh, sliding a third finger into her. And her world was exploding in purple and fireworks--every muscle in her body clenched as she moaned into the velvet. Theodore pulled himself up and then was sliding his cock up and down her slit, teasing her before she was even finished her climax. "Do you want me inside you?"

"Please, please, please," Hermione pushed her hips back toward him, trying to get closer. Her walls were spasming, screaming out for something to cum on. 

"Please, what?" He gripped onto her hair, pulling her face off the pool table. She moaned at the feeling as her knees shook with want. Hermione had never been one for dirty talk, but Theodore was doing things to her body that she hadn't even known were possible. 

"Please put your cock inside me," she couldn't see him--the light above the billiard table was blinding--but she heard a groan of approval. And then he was sliding into her, burying himself to the hilt with one thrust. 

"Fuck, Hermione."

The sound of her name being gasped out like it was the man's last breath sent her over the edge. He pounded into her mercilessly, her hipbones digging into the side of the table. His pace quickened and he pulled on her hair, yanking her up so that he could kiss her. His free hand grabbed at her breast, and the sensation of it all happening at once was almost too much. Theodore pulled out and, before she could let out a protest, spun her around. He picked her up and sat her down on the table, her hips dangling off the edge. He held her knees apart and then slid into her again. 

Theodore was a picture, towering over her like that. Sweat was dripping down his temples and his hands were all over her legs. Hermione tried to bite back moans but more than a few escaped her lips, causing a wicked grin to spread over his face. 

"I want you to cum again," he gasped out, his thrusts becoming irregular. "Can you do that?"

"If you can make me."

Hermione hadn't known that her voice could take on such a seductive tone. Just the sound of her own words brought her that much closer to the edge. She was dancing around it already, right on the cusp, and trying not to explode. Theodore grabbed her hips and slammed into her harder and harder, both of them screaming out each other's names as they came in unison. Theodore hardly managed to pull out in time, spilling himself all over her stomach. 

"Fuck," Theodore chuckled to himself as he took a step back. His eyes raked over the image of her lying there, and rather than feeling self-conscious, she felt sexy. For one of the first times in her life, Hermione threw herself into the feeling of making a man look like that. "I didn't know if you were, uh, on the potion or not, so--"

"I am," Hermione was fighting to catch her own breath. "But, it's fine. Fuck, that was amazing."

Theodore cleaned her up and helped her off the table. He had to catch her when she nearly fell over, her legs not quite ready to work. 

"Let's get you back to your bed," he kissed her temple as he pushed her hair of out her face. She nodded sleepily, part of her wishing he'd just carry her there. 

There was no way Hermione was going to be able to walk the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theodore's last shot at hermione before draco completely loses it ;) i had a lot of fun writing this chapter & starting to dig into alice's character a bit more; i've modeled her after holly madison who was one of hugh hefner's main girlfriends for a few years; she's breathtakingly gorgeous & makes me feel lots of things...


	5. PANSY IS A BADASS

It was four in the morning when someone knocked on Hermione's door. She laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. If it was Alice coming to cry over Malfoy doing something ridiculous, she wasn't in the mood for it. She hadn't even been able to fall asleep; there was no way she could even pretend to care about Alice's troubles. Her body was buzzing with Theodore, but her mind flashed images of blond hair and low-hanging satin pants. 

When she didn't answer, there was another set of knocks. Hermione pulled the blankets over her head, curling herself into a ball. The knocking took up a continuous banging, not stopping until she pulled herself up. 

"I'm bloody coming!" she yelled, rubbing at her eyes as she padded her way to the door. She opened it without checking, which she regretted. Malfoy was standing in front of her, looking flustered. Somehow the green satin pants had managed to slide lower, barely clinging to his hips. Hermione's throat ran dry, and she fought to keep her composure. 

"Sorry," he said, his voice quieter than it had been hours before. He seemed less alert, perhaps even half-asleep. "I. Um. Pansy sent me here to apologize."

Of course, Pansy had to send him--he couldn't just apologize on his own. Whether it was the truth or a lie, it was hogwash. Hermione rolled her eyes and attempted to close the door, but his hand came out to block it. She pulled it open again and gave him the best get-the-hell-away-from-me look that she could muster. 

"Well, tell Pansy I accept. Now, if you'll excuse me--"

"Granger-- _ Hermione _ ," he sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "I was an ass earlier. And I recognize that now."

"You do?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. She felt like a teacher scolding an eleven-year-old. 

"Can I come in?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

Her words hung between them, building up a wall. Malfoy seemed resigned to her statement and nodded slowly. He cleared his throat. 

"I understand that we don't know each other that well," he started, speaking slowly. Hermione could tell that each word was filtered as it left his mouth; he carefully selected his words. "And I understand it's not clear why I invited you here."

"Of course it isn't," Hermione scoffed. "You invited  _ me _ of all people to a place like this? And then got mad when I participated? What? Did you want me to police the party instead? Keep everyone six inches apart from each other?"

"I'm not mad that you're  _ participating _ ," the word ground out of his mouth like he was chewing on glass. "I'm mad about who you're participating with. And,  _ mad _ isn't the proper word."

"Why does it matter who I participate with?"

_ Malfoy, what the hell are you doing? _ She screamed the words inside her mind, her eyes searching his face for any indication of his emotions. All she could find was offense with a sprinkle of--sadness? Distress?

Instead of answering her question, Malfoy just stared at her. Hermione didn't know how long they stood like that, with Hermione's hands still on the door and Malfoy's fidgeting awkwardly at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. 

Then, Malfoy was walking away from her. Rather than his usual, easy-going walk, he half-sprinted back to the mansion. Within seconds he was gone from view, and moments after that, she heard a door slam shut. Sighing, Hermione closed the door and made her way back to bed. She still had six hours until she had to be up for breakfast, and she was going to try and make the most of them. 

* * *

Malfoy didn't show for breakfast. Neither did Theodore. Hermione sat in her seat, stirring her tea until the sugar was beyond dissolved. It was curious that neither had shown. Surely, she thought that one of two things would happen. One: Theodore would trot into the room, a shit-eating grin on his face while Malfoy wallowed in his hangover behind his bedroom doors. Two: Malfoy would saunter into the room, pretending that Hermione wasn't there, buttering his toast while Theodore got shipped off to the hospital.

At fifteen minutes past eleven, it was clear that neither was showing. 

The group ate in silence, none of the girls daring to look up from their plates, except for Pansy, who kept her eyes trained on Hermione's face. Half of her wanted to walk out of the room, pack her things, and leave the property forever. The other half was curious; her eyes kept drifting toward the hallway. 

Hermione thought about the previous night, resisting the urge to massage her temples. She'd had sex with Theodore--and she'd liked it. She remembered that much. But after it came something slightly less than guilt; Malfoy had tried to tell her that he was interested in his own twisted way. And she'd walked off with one of his closest friends, probably destroying Malfoy's billiards table.

And he'd attempted to apologize. Not only had he showed up on Hermione's doorstep with a nervous I'm sorry, but he'd admitted that he didn't like her new association with Theodore. And, Malfoy had hinted that he wished Hermione was spending her adventurous evenings with him instead. Hinted being the keyword. Instead, Malfoy practically ran away from her. 

The house-elves cleared the plates from the table, and the girls began drifting off to different areas of the property. Pansy remained seated at the table, still staring at Hermione. The look wasn't malicious, nor was it one of amusement--she was studying her, trying to figure Hermione out. 

"Hello, Pansy," Theodore ducked his head into the room. He seemed in a rush and was sporting the beginnings of a black eye. "Hermione, you might want to--"

"Get back here, you--"

Hermione couldn't make out the rest of Malfoy's words, because Theodore was slamming the patio door behind himself. Malfoy was thundering down the stairs, nearly slipping down the last three steps. As he landed, his eyes fell on Hermione, sitting at the table. 

Malfoy's lips curled up in a sneer as he straightened himself up. Pansy stood, putting herself between the two of them. With her arms crossed over her chest, she appeared ready to whip out her wand at a moment's notice. 

"Pansy," Malfoy stepped forward, his hands balled into fists and shaking at his sides. "Step aside."

"When you tell me you won't do anything stupid."

"I just want to talk to her."

"I don't think the two of you--"

"Hey," Hermione stood from her chair, waving at both of them. "Hi, Hermione here. Malfoy, if you want to have a real and productive conversation, I am open to that. If you're just going to yell, I'll pack my things right now."

"Hermione--"

"Upstairs." Malfoy cut Pansy off before she could finish her sentence. It was as if Pansy wasn't even there. She stood between them, taking up as much space as possible, yet Hermione stood frozen in Malfoy's gaze. The way he said the word-- _ upstairs _ \--Hermione knew that it wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. When she didn't move, he pressed his lips to a thin line and nodded his head in the staircase's direction. " _ Now _ ."

Hermione snuck around Pansy, nearly tripping over a chair in her attempt to avoid being grabbed. Passing Malfoy in the archway was more difficult. His eyes didn't leave hers until she was ascending the stairs. With one final eyebrow raised at Pansy, he followed Hermione up the stairs and directed her down the hallway. 

"My office is on the third floor," Malfoy said as they came to a dead end. Before them was a portrait of himself, sitting in a high-backed armchair. He sported one of the most excellent sets of dress robes Hermione had ever seen and was currently reading a book. "Cave inimicum."

Portrait Malfoy rolled his eyes as the portrait swung from the wall to reveal a spiral staircase. If Malfoy weren't currently mad at her, Hermione would have laughed. 

"You use a protection charm as a password?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. Malfoy shrugged, neglecting to give her a verbal response.

He made his way up the steps quickly, leaving Hermione behind. She had to take the steps two at a time to catch up to him. When they reached the third floor, Hermione was greeted by an impressive sitting room. A brilliant, metal chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the floor-to-ceiling mahogany wood. A fireplace was guarded by two archways leading to a smaller room filled with windows. Malfoy stepped through the archway on the left, making a beeline for a table in the corner of the room. He poured what looked like whiskey into a glass, running his fingers through his hair. 

Hermione stepped into the office. To her right was a white, brick fireplace--the same as in the sitting room--and a wall of bookshelves. Two beige armchairs faced each other in front of a basic wooden desk. Said desk was covered in magazine prints, journals, and calendars. His quill was sticking out from a leatherbound planner. In the corner was a pensieve, which Hermione hadn’t expected, and potted plants were scattered throughout the space. 

Malfoy’s blond hair was almost yellow in the sunlight, and his usually ice blue eyes reminded Hermione of the waves off the Italian coast. She wanted to swim in them, explore what was beneath the waves. She watched as he moved to sit in one of the armchairs, his legs thrown out haphazardly before him. Malfoy set the half-empty glass down on a side table, spinning it with his fingers slowly. When he finally looked at her, Hermione felt the air sucked from her lungs. 

“Mad still isn’t the proper word,” he began, his eyes scanning her face for any kind of reaction. “Please, sit down.”   
“I prefer to stand.” 

Hermione hovered in the archway, picking at a fingernail. The intensity of Malfoy’s stare made her feel exposed; he could see every last bit of her soul with those electric eyes. He could see that she knew she wasn’t supposed to care that her actions had upset him. He could also see that her eyes were incredibly drawn to his still-un-wrinkled pants. Malfoy stood to approach her, stopping when he came to the desk. There were four feet of space between them. Not much, but enough. 

“I haven’t felt happy in a long time,” Malfoy took a deep breath to steady himself. “And I’m not even sure why I’m here. After the war I got a little crazy, and I got drunk and decided to start this magazine, and now look at me. It’s pathetic. I hardly even have sex with any of those girls. I don’t have the energy for it anymore.”

Hermione stayed silent, watching him closely. She couldn’t help but notice the lovely dip in his collarbones, or how wonderfully sharp his jaw was. Hermione wondered what his surprisingly pink lips would feel like, and how strong his arms really were. She jumped when he let out a frustrated huff. She’d been caught staring. 

“Are you paying attention?”

Hermione could tell that his eyebrow wanted to do what all Slythering eyebrows did--raise up at her mockingly, as if she was some silly little girl. Instead, it stayed obediently in place as Malfoy refocused the energy on pressing his lips into a thin line. 

“Yes,” she nodded, trying her best to look apologetic. But, being apologetic was hard when she was too busy connecting the dots for herself. Mapping out Malfoy’s past actions, replaying his expressions as she studied them to bits. 

“I tried remembering what used to make me happy,” he continued, turning his back on her to sit in the armchair. This time, Hermione followed. She sat across from him, pulling her legs up beneath her. “Or, tried to remember when I’m the happiest. And, ironically, my mind kept going back to Hogwarts. I was happiest when people weren’t looking at me, or listening to me, or waiting for me to act the way they wanted me to act. I was happiest when I faded into the background, tucked away in a corner…” Malfoy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tucked away in a corner and looking at you.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, and she pulled her hand up to cover the rather unattractive look of shock that had come over her face. It was like a semi-truck had smashed into the room. Words stopped making sense; thoughts blurred until they collided in a brilliant explosion. 

“I’m not, like, in love with you or something stupid,” Malfoy opened his eyes only to roll them at her. He leaned back in the armchair and stared at her, his hands resting on his knees. “But, from the day we met on the train, I wanted to know you. And you didn’t want to know me. At first, I was angry because it hurt. No one had ever turned me down before, even for friendship. And then, I was desperate because I couldn’t risk getting to know you. I hated what you were, because it meant I couldn’t even speak to you.”

“You punched Theodore in the face,” were the only words that she could come up with. Malfoy chuckled at her words, nodding his head. His eyes were more sedated when they connected with hers. 

“He knew why I invited you here,” Malfoy said. When Hermione’s face scruched up in disgust, he leaned forward, barely stopping himself from reaching out to her. “Not for  _ that _ . I told you. I haven’t been interested in that in a long time. I just… I can talk to you now. And Pansy suggested that I man up and just do it already, but how can I possibly just casually send you an owl after five years? After all I did?”

“So, you invited me to your…” Hermione was feeling absolutely giddy inside. “Sex mansion? To not have sex with me?”

“I--” Malfoy groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not saying that I  _ wouldn’t _ want to, just that sex wasn’t the goal. Fuck, Hermione--you have no idea what it’s like to see the face of a girl you never got a chance with plastered all over the fucking paper every other day. It drives a man mad.”

Hermione thought of the day that he got attacked by the hypogriff. It was the first time she had felt scared for him. She wouldn’t have admitted it out loud at the time, but she’d nearly jumped in front of him. Hermione had used the Time-Turner to visit him in the hospital wing so that she could hear Madam Pomfrey’s assessment of the damage. It was a broken arm, which she quickly repaired much to Hermione’s comfort. At the time, she hadn’t known why she’d needed to hear Madam Pomfrey’s diagnosis. She’d felt confused while making her way back to her dormitory, questioning her sanity. Hermione had nearly returned the Time-Turner to McGonagall, worried it was messing with her mind. 

A million other thoughts and images and memories flooded her mind, flowing seamlessly one after another. It felt like she was watching herself process why she had even agreed to come to the mansion. She’d thought the invitation was a set up, or Malfoy’s attempt to either embarrass her, or soil her reputation. 

“I didn’t sleep with him because I wanted to upset you,” Hermione pursed her lips, unsure of where to start. “I did it because I wanted to. You haven’t been particularly welcoming since I’ve been here. If you had approached me alone at two in the morning on Friday night, I would have probably--”

“I was fighting off Alice’s advances,” Malfoy frowned. He turned to stare out of the window, crossing one leg over the other. “She knows that she isn’t the only girl here. She thinks she’s special because she’s been here the longest.”

“Have you spoken to her about it?” Hermione asked. Malfoy huffed. 

“She doesn’t sleep in my room anymore,” he turned to face her again. “Not for four months. In fact, I haven’t slept with any of them for four months.”

_ Four months? _ A smirk took over Hermione’s face as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Malfoy looked scared for a brief moment before composing himself. 

“Maybe your problem is that you need to get laid,” she heard herself say. Hermione didn’t know what had gotten into her since she’d arrived at the mansion. It was as if there was something about the property that made her want to push her limits, see how far these boys would let her go. She hadn’t gotten laid for over a year. 

Malfoy stared at her, unsure of how to respond. It was clear as day on his face that he didn’t know if she was being honest, flirtatious, or rude. And that's what she wanted. Hermione wanted to have Malfoy questioning her, not knowing what to expect. He was always so sure of himself, so confident. Hermione wondered if she could take some of that away; if she could hold it in her hand, and taste what it felt like to master it completely. 

“Are you hitting on me?” Malfoy squeaked, clearing his throat at the sound. Hermione shrugged and raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, if you aren’t interested…” Hermione started to stand up, only to have Malfoy reach out and grab her wrist. She realized it was the first time that he was ever  _ actually _ touching her. His touch was firm but gentle, practised--like he’d been waiting years to do it. 

“How is it possible that I invited you here to try and simply get to know you,” he licked his lips. “And you’re the one who came here to try and get in my bed?”

Hermione bit her bottom lip. Every muscle in her legs wanted to clench around the warm feeling bubbling up from between her legs. His face was inches from hers, and that addictingly wonderful scent of sandalwood was making it hard to keep her eyes open. Hermione wanted to melt--no, dive head first--into it. Did that make her a slut? No, she didn’t think so. After all, something told her that sex with Malfoy would blow Theodore’s gentlemanly approach out the window. 

“I’m not saying that I  _ wouldn’t _ want to,” she smirked at him as she repeated his words. “Just that sex wasn’t the goal.”

“What was the goal?” 

Malfoy’s hand was still on her wrist, sending electric sparks up her left arm. She wanted to reach out and touch him. After all, he was standing there covered in nothing more than thin silk pants. She could have them off within moments, and they could be doing far more things than simply staring at each other. 

Hermione took a half-step forward, her right hand reaching up to his bicep. The muscles tensed as she lightly brushed against his skin. With her pointer finger, she lazily drew a line from his soulder to the middle of his chest. There, she placed her palm down flat to feel his heart as it stuttered beneath her touch. 

“Trying something new,” she whispered. Hermione glanced up to meet his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. Malfoy brought both of his hands to cup her face, leaning down until their noses bumped. 

“Did you?” 

The feeling of his skin on hers was mindblowing. The office had faded away, leaving the pair of them standing inches from each other but removing to take it that extra step. He was teasing her, maybe, or trying to see if she would break first. And, if that was the case, two could play at that game. After all, Theodore had been quite the gentleman--she wanted to be thrown against the wall, tied to the ceiling, blindfolded.

And she wanted Malfoy’s voice to be whispering in her ear, taunting her as his hands did wicked things with her. She’d never voiced her fantasies outloud, not even to Ron. Those fantasies were locked away in her mental closet, shoved alongside everything else from her Fifth Year. Back then, Hermione had touched herself to sleep with the thought of what Malfoy could do to her. And only Malfoy. She needed the Malfoy that was arrogant, and dominant--like a proud panther, hovering over its prey before it finally bites. 

“Eh,” Hermione shrugged in reference to Theo. It was only a half-lie. “Good, but nothing that left me shaking.”

Malfoy moaned at her words, his lips getting that much closer to hers. His eyes were simmering, and his hands slid to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, holding her in place. 

“Do you want to be left shaking?” Malfoy’s voice was a low rumble, vibrating through his chest and into hers. Hermione giggled. 

“No man has been able to,” she trailed her hand down his chest to his abdomen, nails gently scratching as she went. “After all, I have certain needs. And it takes a particularly dominant man to meet them.”

Malfoy’s lips were on hers, pulling the breath from her lungs. She kissed him back enthusiastically, nearly crying out in joy when their bodies finally collided. Hermione pulled on his shoulders, trying to bring him closer. Malfoy’s leg slid between her legs, rubbing against her. She was wearing simple pajama shorts and a thin t-shirt, no underwear, and she could feel the satin against her skin. She didn’t want satin--she wanted his hands, and tongue, and teeth. 

“I can do that,” Malfoy’s tone sent chills down her spine. He said the words against her lips and they settled deep inside her core. She was already shaking, and he hadn’t even touched her. He had to be able to feel it. 

“Now,” Hermione gasped out. “Please.”

Malfoy pulled back then, a dark smile ghosting his lips. He shook his head at her, one of his hands moving to her throat. He squeezed gently, humming with pleasure as she gasped. She couldn’t describe the feeling of pure need that took over her body. 

“I think you’ll have to wait,” he planted a soft peck on her lips. “It’ll be more fun.”

“Malfoy--”

“It’s Draco,” he corrected her. “And I said you’ll have to wait. I usually go to bed around ten. You can apparate to my room. Until then, please, do whatever it is your heart desires”

Hermione whimpered but nodded, biting on her bottom lip. He released her and she began to make her way back to her guest house. As she was crossing the threshold, Draco called out to her.

“And no touching yourself,” she could hear the smirk in his voice. “I want you begging for it.”

Ten hours had never felt like such a long period of time. Hermione lazed by the pool, drank vodka lemonades, and tried to keep her thighs from rubbing together. Pansy skipped dinner. Draco used the freedom to blatantly stare at Hermione across the table, heat radiating off of him as if he was on top of her. When she got back to her guest house, she laid in bed and fidgeted. 

Hermione wondered if he’d notice that she’d touched herself. There wasn’t actually any way for him to know--was there? She thought about what he’d do to her if he figured it out. She could imagine the look that would take over his face, and how tightly he’d grip her wrists. Maybe he’d punish her. 

She ground her teeth as a moan tried to force its way out of her mouth. Hermione decided that she wanted to be good for him, just this once. She had a few days left at the mansion after all. Hermione was sure there would be time for her to see what he could really do. 

* * *

Draco was sitting in one of two chairs facing an ornate window that gave a wonderful view of the property. Fairy lights twinkled in the moonlight, and some of the girls were still enjoying the summer breeze. He hadn’t seen Theo since punching him in the face. He’d never understood why punching someone in the face was seen as more satisfying than hexing them until he did it. Theo was his friend, but he’d give him another black eye if given the chance. 

His feet were kicked up on the windowsill, and he tried to remain composed. His stomach was in knots over the idea of Hermione actually apparating to his bedroom, while his head swam with images of everything he wanted to do with her. She’d egged him into it--he could feel the challenge radiating off of her as their bodies hovered inches apart. Her usually impassive amber eyes had been on fire, scorching his will to remain gentlemanly. All thoughts of propriety and courtship--no,  _ friendship _ \--were wiped from his mind as plainly as he was swept off his feet. 

He had forgotten what being around her was like. People gravitated toward Hermione; she pulled people into orbit around her. And they all spun around her in endless circles, not daring to look away, afraid that she would disappear. Draco had thought that she was gone to him forever, and he’d told Pansy as much while drunk and avoiding Alice. Pansy had been the one to suggest that he invite Hermione Granger, of all people, to his mansion--the place where he tried to emulate the very existence which he was trying to pass off as attractive to young men in exchange for a quick buck. He knew the magazine would do well; after all, shirtless witches sold magazines. It wasn’t the magazine that he was worried about.

It was himself. He’d grown increasingly moody as Alice’s advances became much more…  _ aggressive _ . She had forgotten their agreement, and where she stood. The girls didn’t belong to him, they were there with him. That was supposed to be the point. Just adult witches and wizards, enjoying their youth and sexual freedom. Feelings and attachments weren’t supposed to be involved. 

But, then again, Hermione wasn’t supposed to be involved. Draco stared down at Alice splashing in the pool, wondering what he had even found so attractive about her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, he’d have to be blind and dumb to suggest such a thing. But, she was all looks and money hungry and attention starved, and that kind of woman wasn’t what Draco wanted. What he wanted was someone who could challenge him, if he were lucky enough to end up with someone at all. 

Draco heard Hermione apparate into his bedroom at 10 pm exactly. The corners of his lips turned up in a schoolboy-like smile. Hermione was completely opposite what he imagined she would be. She knew the power that she had over him. Yes, he  _ could _ dominate her in bed, but only as long as she let them. She was giving herself up and not at the same time; something completely like her. 

He wondered if she would scream out his name if he asked. He’d always wanted to hear her choke out those two syllables, scratching her hands down his back as her body arched against his. Unless, of course, he had her tied up. Then she’d be left to try and twist away from his unrelenting hands and tongue, squirming as he made her his completely. 

Fifteen minutes passed before Draco stood up from the chair. Hermione was still in his room, probably nervous and growing more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Good. He’d meant what he said as she left his office--he wanted her begging for it. He wondered if she’d been good and hadn’t touched herself, or if he’d get to show her who called the shots when it came to her pleasure. 

Using one hand, Draco slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom. Hermione was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on her arms with one leg crossed over the other. He nearly lost it when he took in what she was wearing. The bustier that Hermione had donned accentuated the curves of her breasts, pushing them up and decorating them with vibrant green fabric and white lace appliques. 

The only light in the room came from a candle on a bookshelf, and the moon pushing its way into the room. She was lit up on the bed like a framed picture, and Draco’s mouth began to water. She was the most stunning witch that he had ever seen. He unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, making her wait as he took his time. Draco tossed it to the side and approached her, fueled by the way that she sat up to meet him. She was eye-level with the zipper on his dress pants, and he quite liked the way that she looked from that angle. 

“You made me wait,” she frowned at him. Hermione’s eyes quickly darted to his belt and then back up again. Draco reached out a hand to cup her chin, his thumb exploring the feeling of her bottom lip. “I hope you know, I’m not a patient woman.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to teach you patience,” he whispered, his heart hammering away at his throat. Her eyes widened at his words, and she started to argue. He didn’t want arguing--he wanted begging. Hermione wasn’t the kind of witch to beg, she was the type to demand. But, that evening, he was going to be in charge, as long as she let him. 

He stopped her by planting a soft kiss on her lips. He realized that it was more intimate than he’d planned for it to be, but he couldn’t help himself. Hermione made him want to be both gentle and aggressive at the same time; he wanted to hold her as if she was a piece of glass, and he wanted to fuck her into the mattress until she couldn’t remember her own name. He wondered if she knew the kind of effect she had on him. 

“Patience is a virtue,” he said, kissing along her jaw toward her neck. “Isn’t that a Muggle saying?”

“I don’t want to be patient or virtuous,” Hermione shifted her hips forward. “I want to be screaming into a pillow.”

Her words made Draco smile. He would make her scream, if that's what she wanted. After all, who was he to deny Hermione Granger of her desires?

“I have three rules,” he pulled back to make eye contact. “One, you will tell me to stop if you want me to stop. Two, you will use my first name; I’ve wanted to hear you say it for years. Three, I want you to let go and enjoy yourself.”

“I’d be enjoying this more if--”

Draco covered her mouth with his hand before she could finish her sentence. 

“ _Fourth_ _rule_. You’re going to remember that I’m in charge. You’ll enjoy it plenty if you let me have my way with you.” Draco felt her shiver at his words, and she nodded. “Now. Tell me right away if there’s anything that is off limits.”

“Anal,” she said the moment his hand moved away from her mouth. Draco laughed, letting his hand travel down her throat and toward her chest. Her wonderful, supple chest sporting one of his favorite colors. His other favorite color, unsurprisingly, was periwinkle. A blush crept its way onto Hermione’s cheeks. “But, that’s about all.”

“Won’t even miss it,” he smirked at her before giving her another soft kiss. He couldn’t help himself. Draco could spend hours simply leaving soft kisses along every inch of her body, and he made himself a promise that he could have a day set aside for just that. But, his current prerogative, was being anything but soft. “Stand up and hold your hands above your head.”

Draco stepped back so that Hermione could stand. She stepped toward him, searching for his touch, but he kept space between them. When she raised up her hands, a black rope fell from the ceiling to secure her wrists in place. Hermione panicked for a moment, realizing that she’d been trapped. Draco circled her casually, feeling the hunger in her stare as she tried to keep him in her eyesight. 

He reached out a hand to touch the small of her back which caused her to jump. Her skin was softer than silk, and Draco took a step closer. He let his hands make their way to her chest as he pulled her to him. Hermione’s body was pressed against his, her ass pressing teasingly against him. Draco placed a delicate kiss on her shoulder, again, unable to help himself. Hermione huffed impatiently, and he reached into his pocket for a strip of satin. 

“I was going to tie you up on the bed,” he quickly slipped the fabric into her mouth, tying it behind her head. “But it seems like you don’t even know how to keep quiet.”

Hermione protested, narrowing her eyes at him. In response, Draco landed a swift smack on her ass. Her eyes widened and he smiled down at her. Hermione fucking Granger was tied up in front of him, inviting him to have his way with her. He pulled her flush against his front again, bringing his lips close to her ear. 

“Spread your legs for me.” As he spoke, one of his hands began its tortuous journey south. She obeyed, her eyes falling closed as he traced the length of her slit through the fabric. When he felt how damp her panties were already, he nibbed at her shoulder to keep from moaning. His cock stirred in his trousers, and he rolled forward into Hermione on instinct. 

Draco slid his hand into her panties, finding her clit and rubbing it in slow circles. Hermione whimpered at the feeling, the sound of it nearly making his legs shake. He hadn’t known that such a primal noise could come from her lips. 

* * *

Hermione’s head was already spinning. The room felt hot but in a good way, and her arms tied up were the least of her concerns. What she wanted was him inside of her; fingers, tongue, cock--it didn’t matter. Just something. In the dark, it was difficult to see Draco, but she could feel his body pressed against hers, and every movement of his fingers sent chills up her spine. 

And then a finger was slipping inside of her, and she was biting down on the fabric in her mouth. He’d been smart to gag her; she wouldn’t have shut up otherwise. It was frustrating, yet sexy--she wanted to tell him what to do, how to please her, but he was doing it all without instruction. 

Draco’s finger retreated and she dropped her head back on his shoulder out of frustration. What was it with these men making her wait? Wasn’t the whole point to bring her to orgasm? Why did they have to make it so damn--

He was kneeling in front of her, sliding her panties down her legs. Hermione hadn’t imagined that. Draco looked disarmingly handsome on his knees in front of her, placing kisses along her hip bones as his hands ran up her thighs. Her sex was absolutely throbbing, and Hermione wasn’t sure how she wasn’t dripping down her legs. Draco’s tongue found her clit as a finger slid inside of her, and she attempted to scream out a  _ yes _ but it got caught in the satin. 

She gripped at the rope that bound her hands to the ceiling, trying to squeeze her legs shut. The pressure was building to an intensity that she hadn’t experienced. Explosions were going off in all of her joints, her muscles clenching as he tortured her through three orgasms in rapid succession. By the end of it, she was seeing stars and all of the oxygen had left the room. Hermione was gasping for breath and still craving more. If he stopped she was going to self-implode. 

Draco pulled away from her to stand up. Without warning the rope disappeared, and she collapsed into his waiting arms. He smiled down at her as he scooped her up, placing kisses along her cheekbones as he laid her down in the bed. He climbed in beside her, gently running his hand from her bellybutton to her hair. 

“Did you like that?” he asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her nose. She nodded vigorously, shaking off the lucid state that he had finger-fucked her into. As Hermione’s head cleared, the gentle humming returning. Draco chuckled as he untied the gag, pressing their lips together the moment she was free of it. Her hands dashed for his belt, unbuckling it before he could protest. Before she could slide his pants off, a strong hand was placed on her wrist. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m taking your pants off,” Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes. 

“I know,” Draco shifted closer to her, pressing her wrist onto the mattress beside her head. “You don’t have to though.”

“What? Why?” Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little cheated. Was this how all Slytherin boys did it? Give you mind-blowing foreplay and then make you wait for the grand finale?

Draco shrugged, staring down at her. His eyes had softened, and hesitancy was written all over his face. She’d never seen him look like that. Draco was suddenly vulnerable, his entire mood shifted. 

“I--” Draco blushed. “I don’t know. You looked cute like that, all tied up. It made me feel things.”

“Like, sexual things?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. He looked down at the blankets and pursed his lips. 

“Like, emotional things,” Draco shrugged. “Roughing you up doesn’t feel right if what I want to do is take my time, go slow. Explore you.”

“You’re still mad that I had sex with Theodore, aren’t you?” Hermione deadpanned. It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes, pulling his hands away from her. She regretted her words the moment they came out of her mouth. When he didn’t get off the bed, she tried not to panic. 

“No,” Draco shook his head. “I told you, I wasn’t mad. You’re more than just a quick fuck, Hermione. I’d want to see you like that,” he gestured to where she had been tied up. “All of the time. And, if I can’t, I’d rather not experience it at all.”

Hermione was shocked. Her mouth opened and then closed again as her brain buffered. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Draco was avoiding her gaze as she desperately tried to catch his eyesight. It took Hermione reaching out to touch his shoulder to get what she wanted. 

“Do you mean that?” She asked. 

Draco stared at her, looking vulnerable. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes serious as they bore into hers. He nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i checked my tags before finishing this chapter to make sure that i could sneak in a lil draco pov so that we can see our boy & his thoughts about hermione :) more fluff than i'd anticipated, but it happens. they gotta be all emotional before he can destroy her ;) i'm going to try & keep updates as frequent as possible, but i'm back to work now & working crazy ass hours!! i can promise i'll try to keep up 1-2 updates per week!!


	6. EUPHORIA

Draco picked up an ice cube, studying it. The ice began to melt against his fingers and drip down his wrist. Hermione was laid out before him, each of her limbs tied to the four corners of his bed. A black satin ribbon left her blindfolded and completely powerless before him. 

For a moment, he hesitated. That same feeling from the night before solidified like concrete in his knees. Who was he, really? And who the bloody hell was she? Hermione looked absolutely stunning like that, her skin shining in the moonlight. She was giving herself to him, completely, and all he really wanted to do was talk. To caress her gently. Maybe to pepper a few kisses along her cheekbone. 

What was it about a woman being powerless that turned him on so much? Staring at Hermione before him, it wasn’t because he felt a need to  _ dominate _ . He didn’t want to be aggressive, to risk hurting her. She was trusting him so completely, like a fair few of witches had done before, but this time it was different. 

“Draco,” she moaned his name, pulling against the ropes tying her down. He dropped the ice cube, stunned by the way his name sounded. She was begging for him. And he couldn’t stop overthinking simply teasing her. “Please do something, this isn’t fair.”

_ She said please _ , he thought to himself. It was the little boost that he needed. He picked up another ice cube from the tray and slowly made his way to her. Hermione turned her head in the direction of his footsteps. 

Draco held out the ice cube to place it directly between her breasts. Hermione gasped at the sensation, the muscles in her abdomen clenching. Idly, he let the ice cube explore her left breast, circling around it before teasing at her nipple. It hardened beneath the ice, and Hermione bit at her bottom lip. Draco repeated the movements on the right, losing himself in the image of water dripping down her skin. 

She was absolutely ravishing. Draco wanted to give her what she wanted: intense pleasure; more intense than even Theo could bloody give her. Hermione wanted to be teased, and he wanted to see how far he could take her. How many times could he make her cum before she was breathless? And how many times after that?

The ice cube melted as he made his way down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and Draco had to stifle a moan as he moved to rest his upper body on the bed between her legs. Hermione was absolutely wet for him, and she rolled her hips forward as best she could while he used his fingers to spread her lips apart. He wanted to devour her completely; to sink his tongue deep into her, and lick at her clit until she was exploding beneath his touch. 

But, Draco went slow, keeping himself and his throbbing cock in check. He would deal with that later. Right then, he slowly circled her entrance with his pointer finger. She was slick to the touch, he could easily slip a finger or two into her. She desperately wanted him to; small whimpers were escaping her lips, searing themselves into his memory. He knew he’d be jerking himself off to those sounds for years after, starting probably later than evening after she left his room. 

“You’re not going to cum until I say you can,” he glanced up the length of her body to watch her reaction to his words. Hermione was biting down on her bottom lip, and her knuckles were turning white as she gripped at the rope. Her hips rolled forward again, searching for his touch. Draco pulled his fingers from her sex to massage her thighs. “Got that?”

“Yes, Draco,” she nodded enthusiastically, his name forcing its way past her lips with a low moan. “Just please touch me.”

His cock twitched at the sound of the word  _ please _ . Draco was finding it increasingly difficult to remain focused; he probably should have left her gagged for his own sanity. Draco smirked to himself as he pulled his hands away from her completely. Her sex was vibrating for him; he could see her walls spasming, trying to find some way to alleviate her arousal. 

“Do you think you deserve it?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. Hermione deserved more than endless, breathless orgasms. He should take her to Paris, or Rome, or any other damned country she wanted. Draco would go to Japan for her. He should take her to Greece and make love to her in a cliffside villa; and yes, he meant  _ make love _ . How sexy would it be to go slow, his hips rolling toward hers like waves kissing the shore? He could make her lose herself in the feeling of being explored, being caressed. 

“Yes,” Hermione choked out the word, and he forced himself to bring his hands back to her. Draco had to focus on the task at hand; he could worry about his silly little daydreams when Hermione wasn’t tied up in front of him. 

* * *

When Hermione wasn’t entirely focused on the growing pressure between her legs, she was making a mental list of what she needed to punch Draco for. First, he wasn’t letting her see what he was doing. Second, he wasn’t doing much of anything down there. Just teasing her entrance with the trace of his pointer finger, hinting at the way he could make her feel. 

She thought about the previous night, and how wonderful it had felt when his two fingers had slipped inside of her. Even from behind, his fingers could twist to hit that delicious spot repeatedly, until she was coming undone before him. She wanted to come undone again, to lose herself completely in his touch. 

If Draco was sitting down there thinking about what country he would whisk her away to if he had the chance, she was going to punch him for that too. They could start planning the trip whenever he damn well pleased, just not right then. There were other things that had to be--

And then, Draco was devouring her with his mouth. He had a much better angle on her than the previous night, and he assaulted her clit with delicious circles from his tongue. That same finger danced around her entrance, teasing her, pulling her closer and closer to the edge. Hermione knew that whatever noises were leaving her mouth were as far from ladylike as possible, but she didn’t care. 

“Draco, I’m close--”

He pulled away from her, his hands moving to massage her thighs. She screamed at the loss of sensation, her muscles clenching as they tried in vain to chase her climax. 

“I want you to count to five.”

Screw these Slytherin men and their games. And, not even screw them--since clearly none of them were going to screw her. 

“One,” Hermione counted dutifully. The pressure was beginning to ease, and she whimpered at the loss of pleasure. “Two.”

“Slower.”

“Three… Four… Five.”

When she said  _ five _ , Draco’s mouth and fingers returned to their torturous positions. Two fingers slid into her with ease, and he increased his assault on her clit with his tongue. Draco sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth, his fingers twisting against her. He coaxed her back to the cliff edge, then added a third finger. She hadn’t known three could fit inside of her before, and suddenly that notion seemed silly. Of course she could fit three fingers inside of her; Draco could shove anything in her that he wanted. 

“I’m--” 

Before she could say the words, Draco pulled away for the second time. Hermione cursed herself as she tried desperately to rub her thighs together. Her toes curled, and every muscle in her body was clenching as it tried to squeeze out any ounce of release. 

“Count to six.”

“Six?” Hermione’s voice came out an octave or two too high. That voice didn’t belong to her; it belonged to some woman in the throes of passion, accusing her sex partner of being ridiculous. 

“Six.” 

Draco repeated the word and placed a trail of kisses along the inside of her thigh. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She could count to six. And she could punch him six times when they were done. It was a decent enough number.

“One.”

Draco slid a finger into her. Her breath hitched, which caused Draco to chuckle, and the sound of it sent shivers down her spine. 

“Two.”

Another finger. He moved them slowly, pressing against her. He slid in and out of her with ease, she was dripping for him. 

“Three.” 

Draco pulled both fingers out of her, and kissed her knee. She wanted to scream, but knew it wouldn’t help. He’d play this game all evening; she had to be good. 

She loved that she had to behave. Normally she hated having to be polite, constantly biting back snide remarks for the sake of propriety. But, in Draco’s bedroom, it was different. Here she was rewarded for being good. If she did what she was told, she could finally climax. 

“Four.”

Hermione wanted to see him so badly. She wanted to know what he looked like, hovering between her legs, his fingers dancing across her skin. Hermione wanted to see him devouring her--she wanted to tangle her hands in his hair and hold him there for hours. 

“Five.”

Draco’s two fingers slid into her again, quickly picking up a dangerous tempo. He moved quickly, pushing her toward the edge. She was going to cum any second. 

“Make it eight,” Draco kissed the inside of her thigh, picking up the pace. “And start from one.”

Hermione felt like she was going to explode. She did as she was told, restarting from one. Draco slowed down his rhythm when she got to four, and picked it back up when she got to six. By the time she was gasping out eight, he was back to sucking her clit into his mouth. 

“Cum for me,” Draco pulled his mouth from her, his fingers pushing against that spot. “Now.”

Hermione was screaming out his name, legs shaking, as he coaxed her through an intense orgasm. Her toes curled and legs spasmed. She changed her mind--it was a good thing he’d tied her down. She might have accidentally kicked him in the face. 

And then, Draco was hovering on top of her, kissing along her collarbones. She could feel him hovering at her entrance, teasing her the same way his fingers had. 

“Do you want my cock inside you?” He asked, rolling his hips forward. Hermione gasped and nodded, their noses bumping with the movement. He was so close to her. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and wanted his lips on hers. The urge to kiss someone had never felt so strong. 

“Yes,” she tried to lift her head from the pillow. Where were his lips?

“Yes, what?” Draco rolled his hips forward again, slowly that time. Hermione matched his movement as best she could. 

“Yes, Draco.” 

And then, Draco was filling her up and capturing her gasp in a kiss. Hermione could taste herself on his tongue, and it was intoxicating. He pounded into her mercilessly, and all she wanted was to grab onto his shoulders for support. She couldn’t tell where he ended and she began; their bodies felt permanently intertwined. 

Hermione didn’t know if she’d be able to have sex with anyone else ever again. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, and every sensation sent ripples of pleasure through her body. 

She had to count to ten for each of her five? six? orgasms that evening. He made her count those too. He coaxed her through feeling each spasm of her sex around his cock, making the sensation that much more pleasurable. At one point, Hermione began to miss the ice that he had teased her with. She was on fire, her legs useless on the bed. 

“I’m gonna cum soon,” Draco mumbled into her left ear. Hermione didn’t think she could have another orgasm, but those words nudged her forward. He sounded so sexy, gasping into her hair like that. He was driving her wild. 

“So do it,” Hermione nipped at what she assumed was his shoulder. She didn’t know if he would punish her later for speaking out of turn, but the way he grabbed her hips made the comment worth it. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

“Fuck,  _ Hermione _ .” 

Draco was pulling her lips to his as he pounded into her with renewed intensity. She let herself fall over the edge without asking for permission, and the sensation had Draco tightening his grip on her hair. He moaned out her name as his hips stilled, binding him to her in the most pleasurable way possible. 

Hermione didn’t notice when the ropes and blindfold vanished. Her head was swirling with leftover euphoria, and Draco was peppering soft kisses along her jawline. He was whispering something in her ear, but she couldn’t hear it over her heartbeat. She curled into the feeling of his touch, nuzzling closer as he turned to pull her to his chest. 

In minutes, both of them were fast asleep, covered in sweat and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that intense for anyone else or just me???
> 
> only one chapter to go and then we will be bringing this story to a close! but, don't fret; there will be a surprise with chapter seven that might make up for it! ;)
> 
> as always, thank you so much for the love and support! always available on my tumblr, draqo-pctter, where i share story updates and other hp related content!


	7. GOODBYE FOR NOW

Hermione was woken up by sunlight and the feeling of a hand dancing along her hip. She was still in Draco’s bed, the tingling sensation from the night before still lingering in her toes. Hermione didn’t want to wake up--she wanted to stay in that bed forever, a half-asleep haze filling her mind. 

“You’re beautiful in the sunshine.” 

Draco’s voice was soft, his breath dancing across her shoulder. He planted a soft kiss to her skin. The contact was so gentle, Hermione almost didn’t believe that Draco had been the one to kiss her. Tenderness was never a trait that Hermione had associated with him. Draco had always been chiseled stone and sharp lines; black cutting stark against white. Instead, Hermione was beginning to learn, Draco was soft edges and foggy grey. She could get lost in him if she wasn’t careful. 

She hummed a response, shifting closer to the weight of his body on the mattress. Her nose bumped against his chest which prompted her to smile. Keeping her eyes closed, Hermione brought up a hand up his abdomen to trace the length of his collarbone. Draco inhaled sharply at her touch, his hand gently squeezing her hip. She was still naked--she wondered if he was, too. 

Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes. Draco was staring down at her, a slightly confused expression on his face. 

“What?” Hermione asked, biting on her bottom lip. She didn’t know if it was the sex or wonderful sleep talking, but he looked absolutely dashing. The sunlight sparkled in his light blue eyes, reminding her of a far off ocean; peaceful. 

“Nothing,” Draco said too quickly, a soft blush making its way up his cheeks. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him; a challenge. Draco’s eyes glanced down the length of her body and then back up to her face. She mirrored his movement. He was naked, and the sight of him made her mouth water. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Hermione rested her head on the pillow, her finger trailing its way up Draco’s neck. His hand returned to lightly massaging her hip, dipping down every once in a while to squeeze her ass. Hermione decided that she liked it, pressing herself into his touch. 

“Um,” Draco cleared his throat, his hand resting on her thigh. “Yes? It’s not every often that I’m left speechless, Gra-- _Hermione_. And you’ve successfully done that.”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel giddy at his words. It was all unreal. She was laying in Draco Malfoy’s bed at his sex mansion, and he was the one left speechless. And she liked that she was waking up beside him, their bodies separated by only a few inches. 

“Have I?” Hermione asked, a smirk gracing her lips. Draco’s eyes narrowed at her words. He looked adorable when he was suspicious. 

“Yes,” Draco replied seriously, his eyes scanning her face. She maintained eye contact as her hand traveled down, over his chest, and past his navel. Hermione’s fingers found what they were after, and as she took his cock in her right hand Draco’s breath hitched. 

“Little old me?” Hermione leaned forward to kiss his jaw, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. She worked him slowly, watching his reaction, mouth watering as he grew more stiff in her hand. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut, his chin dropping down to rest on the top of her head. Gently, Hermione pushed him onto his back and moved to kneel over him, keeping up the rhythm with her hand. 

“It’s quite possible,” Draco opened one of his eyes and let out a moan when his eyes landed on her face. Hermione wanted him in her mouth more than she wanted to breathe, and she was sure that her intentions were smeared all over her face. 

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione accentuated each word with a kiss, one on each collarbone. “Speechless.” She planted that kiss on his abdomen. “I like it.” Hermione kissed his bellybutton. Draco’s abdominal muscles clenched as she made her way lower. A hand shot out to wind its way into her curls; Draco didn’t urge her on, but he didn’t stop her either. 

Hermione slowly licked up the base of his cock, enjoying the sound that escaped his lips. She wondered how far he would let her go; could she make him cum? When she looked up at him, and saw Draco staring down at her with hooded eyes, she knew that she could. Hermione took him in her mouth, slowly moving up and down. Draco’s head fell back onto the pillow, his free hand catching in his own hair. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out the word, and the sound of it made Hermione feel more confident. A restlessness was growing between her legs, and she tried to ignore it as she took more of him into her mouth. With each decent down his shaft she took in more, until her nose was bumping into his lower abdomen. 

At first, she was worried she would choke. He was bigger than any man she’d been with before; it was definitely a challenge. After a while she got comfortable, and started to do more with her tongue. As she reached the tip, she would swirl her tongue around, and Draco bucked his hips up to meet her as she slid back down. Hermione risked a glance up at him--he was biting on his finger, eyes wide and watching her every move. Hermione slid off of him with a small pop! and place a kiss on the tip of his cock. 

“Still speechless?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Draco opened his mouth to answer, but his words got lost as she slid him back into her mouth. Both of Draco’s hands were in her hair and he was pulling her up to him, their lips meeting in the middle. 

“Sit on my face,” Draco licked along her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth for him. They kissed deeply as Draco’s words registered in her mind. Then, he was propelling her upward, and Hermione was grabbing onto the headboard for support. 

Draco teased her for a moment, running a finger up and down her slit as he stared up at her. She couldn’t help but whimper as he spread her lips apart, Draco’s eyes closing as he flicked out his tongue. Instinctively, Hermione rolled her hips toward his insatiable tongue, biting back his name. He moaned against her as he moved to grab onto her hips, holding her down. Draco massaged her bum in his hands before landing a soft but firm slap on her left ass cheek. Hermione yelped at the sensation, and then giggled at how it felt. Her skin tingled in the aftermath, and the vibration went straight to the apex of her thighs. 

“Fuck, Draco,” his name still felt foreign on her lips, but she liked it. Hermione didn’t understand how she’d gone nearly twenty-three years hardly saying his first name. “Please, right there. Like that, _yes_.”

Her hips bucked forward again, and Draco picked up the pace of his tongue. Before Hermione realized what was happening, two fingers were sliding into her, scissoring against her heat. Her thighs shook from the sensation, which only encouraged Draco to move them faster, pressing them deliciously against her over and over. 

“Dr-Draco, I’m--” Hermione couldn’t complete the sentence. Draco’s eyes fluttered open, and he pulled away from her just far enough to smirk, not once slowing down the pace of his fingers. 

“Cum for me.”

Those three words sent Hermione flying over the edge. She gripped onto the headboard for dear life, explosions going off in every muscle. Draco pulled his fingers away to replace them with his tongue, burying it as far inside of her as it would go. As she screamed out his name, he consumed every ounce of her. 

“I want you in me,” Hermione’s voice was hoarse with want. Draco released her hips and she slid them down, hovering over him. 

“Take me,” Draco’s response was soft, almost reverent. Without thinking, Hermione bent down to capture his lips in a kiss, tasting herself on them. In one swift movement, she was sliding down his length until he was buried to the hilt. 

_Take me._

Hermione’s body moved of its own accord, and she reveled in the feeling of sliding up and down his length. Each time their hips connected, he rammed into that same spot that his fingers had rubbed against, bringing her closer to another orgasm. Her thighs shook as she approached her climax, and Draco grabbed her hips as if sensing it. He guided her movements as they became more frantic, and when her muscles tightened he took over. Draco rammed upward into her repeatedly, kissing on her neck as she moaned his name into his ear. 

After she had finished, Draco was lifting her up and rolling on top of her. He knelt before her, pulling her legs up to his hips. And then he was moving in her with bone crushing strength, making her toes curl. 

“Shit,” he chuckled a little bit, a lopsided smile making its way onto his face. “You’re-- _fuck_.”

Hermione bit her lip to keep the moans at bay, looking up at him. She tangled her hands in her hair and pulled, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Her body was on fire, thoroughly vibrating for the man who towered over her. 

“Mmm, Draco that feels good,” Hermione let her head fall limp on the pillow, her eyes watching his hips snap forward into hers. “Please, like that.”

“Do you like that?” Draco raised an eyebrow at her, slowing his pace. He pulled back slowly, until she was nearly empty, teasing her with small, half-thrusts. At a leisurely pace he would fill her up again, pressing hard against that wonderful spot. 

“Draco,” she moaned out his name, rolling her hips forward to try and pick up the pace. “ _Faster_.”

“Faster?” Draco snapped his hips forward in one sharp, quick motion. She gasped at the feeling, a grin spreading across her face. He started with a fast pace that brought her to the edge in seconds. 

“Yes!” Hermione gasped as she came without warning, gripping onto the bedsheets for her life. Ripple after ripple of pleasure wrecked her body in waves, each of her senses focused intensely on the feeling of Draco ramming into her. 

“Shit, that felt good,” Draco dropped her legs and moved down to rest over her, their noses touching. “Fuck, Hermione. I’m gonna cum soon.”

His words sent electricity richocheting down her spine. 

“Yeah?” Hermione tilted her chin up, their lips brushing against each other. “Do it. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Hermione didn’t know what prompted her to say those words. Perhaps, it was honesty. She wanted to see him cum; she’d been blindfolded the night before, robbed of the image of Draco screaming out her name. 

“Fuck, Hermione.” Draco captured her lips in a kiss, his hips moving in an erratic rhythm. Within seconds he was tensing above her, sucking on the skin on her shoulder to stifle a moan.

Draco somehow kept himself supported above her, eventually lifting up his head to pepper kisses along her cheekbone. Hermione’s head was spinning with sex and Draco Malfoy, and she could barely register him moving to pull her into his side. 

“Is it too late in the morning to go back to sleep?” Hermione heard herself mumbling against Draco’s chest. He chuckled at her question, a hand making its way through her curls. 

“Sleep, love,” he whispered into her hair. He squeezed her shoulders gently, and it was the only encouragement that she needed. Hermione allowed herself to doze off, lost in the feeling of Draco’s tender touch and the tingle in her toes. 

* * *

Draco couldn’t bring himself to leave his bedroom for the rest of the day. Hermione had left to pack her things in the early afternoon, and the time was nearing 5 pm. She was going to leave soon, to head back to her far away flat and her boring Ministry job. Draco couldn’t help but feel as if he missed her already. That may have been why he found himself knocking on the door to her guest house, a shy hand buried in the pocket of his trousers. 

When Hermione opened the door, she was wearing a grey sweater that appeared two sizes too big for her, and a pair of shorts that came down to her mid-thigh. Her hair was down, flowing freely over her shoulders. It was still damp from a supposed shower, and he could smell her shampoo from his short distance away. 

“Hey,” he said, feeling once again like a teenage boy. “Um. I came to see you off, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Hermione blushed, but opened the door wider for him to step inside. 

Draco hated to admit that he’d only been in a few of the guest houses a couple of times. The blue house was his particular favorite, and that’s why he’d placed Hermione there. It had a coastal feeling to it that made Draco miss the cliffside villages in Greece. Perhaps he’d take Hermione there. 

Her things were neatly packed away in a suitcase and a satchell, both of which sat on the couch. She was checking the house to see if she had left anything. Draco wanted to tell her not to worry. If she left something, she’d have to come back, and that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

Draco hovered in the doorway, watching her make one final trip through the house. When she decided that she had everything, Hermione threw the satchell over her shoulder and grabbed the suitcase. 

“I think I’m ready.”

She sounded unsure, and didn’t make any movement toward the door. Draco wanted to walk across the space between them and scoop her into his arms. He’d kiss her until she forgot that she had to leave, and then carry her to the bedroom. Or the couch. Whichever one she told him to set her down on. 

Instead of stepping forward, Draco stepped aside and gestured toward the door. Hermione offered him a small smile and then stepped past him. He closed the door and the pair made their way inside, heading toward the front door. Pansy intercepted them in the foyer, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. 

“I didn’t think I’d say this,” she said to Hermione, a warm smile on her lips. “But I think I’m going to miss you being around.”

“I didn’t think I’d say this,” Hermione giggled. “But I’m going to miss being around.”

Draco’s heart sped up at the words. Did she mean that? Would she actually come back?

“Don’t be a stranger,” Pansy leaned forward, wrapping Hermione in a familiar hug. The pair seemed to be as comfortable with each other as old friends, melting into each other’s embrace. 

“I won’t be,” Hermione said as she pulled back. Draco was sure he would faint. Did she mean _that_?

Draco cleared his throat and opened the front door, wishing to get the two witches away from each other as quickly as possible. He couldn’t imagine Pansy and Hermione being friends. The idea was too backward. They existed so distantly from each other in his mind that seeing them hugging one another, promising to see each other again, made the hair on his arms stand up. The things that they could tell each other about him--the thought made him shudder. 

Hermione walked alongside Draco in a shy silence, glancing up at him every couple of steps. When they made it to the front gate, they stood just outside of it on the street, staring at one another. Hermione was searching Draco’s face, and he was looking everywhere except at her. 

“I had a lovely time,” she said after a few moments of silence. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Draco wanted to reach out and pull her to him, to press their lips together and never let go. “Thank you for coming.”

Hermione tucked her hair behind her left ear, chewing on her bottom lip. She looked down at her feet, and Draco thought that she looked beautiful. Each time he realized how stunning she was, it was like the first time he realized it.

“Are you going to send me off without a proper kiss?” Hermione asked, looking back up at him. A soft smile was playing on her lips. “Or is that not Draco Malfoy, playboy creator of _Disrobed Magazine_ , says goodbye to his many women?”

Draco closed the space between her, cupping her face in his hands. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. He knew that he looked absolutely giddy, he could feel the smile tugging on his cheeks. He wanted to do a double backflip--he’d never wanted to do that before. 

“Playboy?” Draco raised an eyebrow at her. Hermione giggled, resting her hands on his chest. 

“Yeah, you know,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “A wealthy young man with enough money to blow on the many pleasures in life, usually surrounded by beautiful women and drugs.”

“I hardly ever do cocaine,” Draco bumped his nose against hers. “That’s more Theo’s thing. I just prefer being comfortable and, yes, surrounded by beautiful women. But, I hate to break it to you, Hermione,” Draco’s heart faltered, his muscles tensing, as he took a deep breath, “there’s only one beautiful woman I’m interested in blowing money on life’s pleasures with.”

He was afraid for a moment that Hermione would pull away. If Draco was her, he would have. What kind of authority did he have to say something like that to her? It was a loaded promise--one that probably meant more than what he’d intended it to. In that moment, he meant it. Standing there on the street, with her face inches from his, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He wanted to melt into that moment, to disappear into it. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

Hermione kept her eyes on his. Her lips were parted slightly, and Draco wanted very much to taste them. 

“I mean it right now,” he replied honestly. “Does that mean anything?”

Hermione leaned up to press their lips together. The kiss was tender, and Draco nearly wept at the intimacy of it. She could feel every emotion that coursed through his body, and he could feel her vibrating against him. She was just as hesitant as he was, but just as intrigued. Was it the sex talking? Maybe. 

But, it seemed that they would figure it out together. And, if everything blew up in his face, Draco would know he couldn’t have done anything differently. He was going purely on feeling; and he’d never done that before. 

“Owl me sometime soon?” Hermione asked when she pulled away. Draco nodded, dropping his hands to his sides. 

Hermione smiled at him as she grabbed for her luggage. In a moment she was gone, the force of her apparation sending Draco’s hair flying about. He’d meant it, she did look beautiful standing there in the June sunset. Her hair had been glowing, and her eyes had sparkled in the most tantalizing way. Hermione was all light and confidence, where he was darkness and insecurity. She was an angel, and he was a devil--what could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FINAL CHAPTER HAS BEEN POSTED.
> 
> y'all. i'm super happy with this fic, and it seems that you guys have been too. someone even asked if i was planning on doing more with this, and honestly, when i started i had barely planned on more than three chapters. but i got carried away with the story, and then taylor swift dropped folklore, and that album gives me nothing but dramione angst. so, here is what i did.
> 
> there will be a sequel. it will have wonderful amounts of bedroom/kitchen/shower content ;) but it will also have a decent level of angst mixed with subplot and slow burning-ness. i'll be posting the first chapter of "most of my life" this friday, if anyone is interested.
> 
> thank you so freaking much for the support of this story. it was a 2am thought while watching a documentary, and you guys have done nothing but show it love. i hope the sequel makes up for the shortness of this fic. 
> 
> feel free to find me on tumblr, draqo-pctter, for updates on "most of my life", other stories that i spew into the universe, and more dramione related content. much love :)


End file.
